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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23088847">Life and Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night'>Dark_and_night</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TCMB, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Hostage Situations, Kidnapping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:54:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23088847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Your fate is sealed by two perverts who decide that it's about time that Thomas become a man.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leatherface | Thomas Brown Hewitt/You, Thomas Hewitt/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>422</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kidnapping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before you had any idea of where you would end up, before you knew anything about the Hewitt family, your fate had been sealed by two perverts deciding that they owed Thomas a favor. Hoyt and Old Monty had gotten it in their heads one day that Thomas deserved some sort of reward for being the butcher. While the two of them barely cared for Thomas and generally had no regard for his wellbeing, the two of them had gotten to talking one day while Luda Mae was out, and the two of them realized that after Luda Mae kicked the bucket, what would stop Thomas from chopping them to bits? Loyalty to family? No matter how horrible the two of them were, even they registered how badly they had treated Thomas over the years. And they both understood the concept of anger, and revenge.</p>
<p>	“Well, what could the boy even want?” Hoyt said around his drink.</p>
<p>	Old Monty cackled. “Ass?”</p>
<p>	Hoyt laughed before his face slowly turned into an expression of realization. “Wait, that’s it!”</p>
<p>	And so, the two of them decided, the next time an even relatively good looking girl managed to stumble into their neck of the woods, they would snatch her up and collar her to Thomas’ bedframe, letting him know that she was a present for him to do with what he wanted from the both of them. </p>
<p>	Of course, you didn’t know about their logic or about that entire conversation when Hoyt nabbed you from your car when you had a flat. You didn’t know that you were being served up on a silver platter to a cannibal when Hoyt dragged you kicking and screaming into Thomas’ room.</p>
<p>	Thomas watched Hoyt in confusion as he dragged you. </p>
<p>	“Help me, please help me!” You screamed, grabbing at the air while you begged Thomas for help. Thomas was surprised by your action, as he was usually the last person his family’s victims ever asked for help from.</p>
<p>	Thomas walked along Hoyt, making a move to grab your arm to take you to a hook, when Hoyt cleared his throat.</p>
<p>	“Ey, ey, ey! Not so fast big guy, this one’s not for eating!” Hoyt grinned, gesturing to the handcuff around one of your wrists. “This one is a gift from me and Monty! I’m jealous, you’re gettin’ a real pretty one, too.” </p>
<p>	Thomas frowned as Hoyt dragged you into his room, handcuffing the free cuff to Thomas’ bed. You were still screaming and crying, but that didn’t really annoy Thomas. He was used to those kinds of sounds. He was annoyed that he didn’t know what the hell Hoyt meant by you being a gift, and the fact that Hoyt was in his room.</p>
<p>	“Damn, she’s a fighter.” Hoyt laughed, walking out and dusting off his hands dramatically. “Enjoy, kid.”</p>
<p>	Thomas stopped Hoyt before he could walk away, frowning at him.</p>
<p>	Hoyt laughed. “Look kid, she’s a gift, because Monty and I were cussin’ and discussin’ and we decided it’s about time you became a man. So, this one is for you. We got enough food so we don’t need her! Maybe wait a bit before going in there, she’s been screaming like the dickens. Let her tire herself out and have at it.”</p>
<p>	Thomas frowned more as Hoyt walked back upstairs, ignoring his still-pointed glare. Thomas sighed, walking to his bedroom door, listening to the commotion that was going on inside.</p>
<p>	You were still screaming and thrashing in the bedroom, confused and terrified, screaming bloody murder for help that wouldn’t come.</p>
<p>	Thomas shook his head, instead of worrying about dealing with you, going to his work station and tuning out your screams. He buried himself in his work, making a new mask, making something he could be proud of. Something that took his mind off everything. When he worked, all his senses numbed, until there was nothing but his craft. It felt like being underwater.</p>
<p>	When Thomas resurfaced, it took him a moment to fully come back to reality. He looked at his new mask, admiring it. The man this face had belonged to had been handsome, luckily for the man. Not so lucky anymore.</p>
<p>	Thomas pulled off his usual mask, pulling the new face over his own. It was always exciting to wear a face that wasn’t his own. In that one first moment, he wasn’t Thomas Brown Hewitt, only good for being a butcher and killing passers-by. He was whoever this person was.</p>
<p>	The moment was fleeting, and Thomas pulled the mask off his face, pulling his regular one back on. It was then he finally realized that you had gone silent. </p>
<p>	Thomas stood, walking to his room, grabbing a skinning knife off of his worktable in case you had gotten loose. He opened up the door, knife at the ready, to see you curled up next to his bed.</p>
<p>	You had obviously cried yourself to sleep. What make-up you had been wearing earlier that day had been completely rubbed off, and you were sitting at an awkward angle. Your hand was up near the top of the bed, the handcuff preventing you from lowering it. Your hand was turning blue from lack of circulation, but it seemed as if you would rather potentially lose the hand than sleep on Thomas’ bed.</p>
<p>	He knelt down, inspecting you. Ever since the plant had shut down, he had sorted people into two categories: food and family. Now, he had to figure out a whole new category, which was whatever he wanted. </p>
<p>	You were pretty, he knew that just from looking at you. But he also knew that the moment your eyes opened you would lash out at him, insult him, you’d be scared of him. </p>
<p>	God, he didn’t want this ‘gift.’ Now he would have to sleep with his mask on and have to ignore your screaming when you woke up again. </p>
<p>	He clicked his tongue in annoyance, carefully wrapping his arms around you and setting you on the bed. If you were his responsibility now, he didn’t want you losing your limbs. Not until he had the go ahead to finally just kill you without getting any shit for it from Hoyt and Monty.</p>
<p>	Thomas left his bedroom, leaving you to sleep. He had skipped dinner, and it was late enough he could eat in the kitchen while everyone else was asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Waking Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up was blissful. For a few moments, all the senses are just waking up, and any unfamiliar sounds and smells simply don’t register. The first thing that finally snapped you back into the real world was the horrible smell. The smell of death.</p>
<p>	You bolted upright, forgetting about the handcuff and nearly jerking your arm out of its socket. Whimpering in pain, you grabbed at your shoulder, looking around the room. Everything seemed the same as the night before, only it was daylight. </p>
<p>	No, something was different. You had fallen asleep on the floor. But now you were on the bed.</p>
<p>	You looked at your person, patting yourself down for any soreness or other strange feelings. It felt silly, but it was the only thing you could think to do. You didn’t feel as if anything had happened to you, but you still felt disgusted as you re-realized your situation. </p>
<p>	Crawling off the bed, you sat next to it once again, tucking your knees up to your chest.</p>
<p>	That old pervert had been the one to find you, and there seemed to be three people in the home that you knew of. The sheriff, the man in the wheelchair, and the huge man you had begged to help you. Before the sheriff had started talking about you being a gift to the big man.</p>
<p>	So, the big man would be the one to really decide your fate. At least it wasn’t the sheriff.</p>
<p>*<br/>*<br/>*</p>
<p>	Thomas blinked awake. He was bent over his work desk. He straightened, his back popping in a satisfying way. He stood, trying to remember what it was that he had been working on last night.</p>
<p>	However, as his head cleared, he remembered that he hadn’t been working on anything worth falling asleep at his desk, he had just been avoiding his room. Damn it. </p>
<p>	He started walking to his room, irritation coursing through his body. Because of Hoyt, Thomas’ room didn’t even belong to him anymore. His hand was on the doorknob, when he realized that you had been cuffed to his bed all night without access to a bathroom.</p>
<p>	Thomas turned and headed to the living room, his heavy footsteps alerting the house to his presence. </p>
<p>	Luda Mae walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Thomas, what’s got you stomping at this time of morning?”</p>
<p>	Thomas stopped, slumping his shoulders before continuing to walk, being careful of how heavy his footsteps hit the ground. </p>
<p>	Luda Mae nodded. “That’s better.” She said, walking back into the kitchen.</p>
<p>	Thomas walked through the house, finding Hoyt on the couch, already drinking, though that was something Thomas was used to.</p>
<p>	“What do you want, Thomas? I thought you’d be too busy playing with your new toy to be up here for a few days at least.” Hoyt guffawed, taking another swig. </p>
<p>	Thomas held up his wrist, making a key-turning motion with his other hand.</p>
<p>	Hoyt chuckled again. “Ah, the key. Changing up positions, I get it.” He dug into his pocket, tossing Thomas the handcuff keys. “Just don’t lose ‘em.”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded, heading back to his room quickly. He didn’t like Hoyt’s constant sex talk, especially since this was nothing more than an inconvenience. </p>
<p>	He walked back down to his room, opening the door. You flinched, your cheeks wet as if you had just been crying. You shrank back at the sight of him, shaking and wiping your eyes. You had finally stopped screaming, at least. </p>
<p>	Your eyes widened in fear as he approached. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes cutting you to the bone. Reaching over you, he undid the cuff that was stuck to the bed. He held the cuff in his hand, standing, pulling you up with him as the other end was still on your wrist.</p>
<p>	You looked him up and down, trying to calculate how good your odds of escaping would be if you kicked him in the crotch and bolted. You were shaking harder now. There was no way of knowing if you would ever get another chance like this.</p>
<p>	You brought your foot back as subtly as you could, bracing yourself to run.</p>
<p>	Thomas tugged on the cuff, bringing his other hand on your shoulder roughly. You squeaked in fear, looking up into the big man’s eyes.</p>
<p>	He glared down at you, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He squeezed your shoulder, enough to hurt you just a bit. His hand was so huge, you figured he could snap your collar bone if he put even the slightest pressure on you.</p>
<p>	Your foot dropped to the floor as he continued to glare you down, and with a sinking heart you realized that he knew what you had been planning.</p>
<p>	He glanced down at your feet, seeing you no longer had any intention of trying to attack him. Good, he could see it from a mile away. Maybe he had too much experience with people attacking him, but if he could preemptively stop you from making a stupid decision, then that was fine.</p>
<p>	His hand slipped off your shoulder, gently tugging your cuff and turning, walking to the nearest bathroom.</p>
<p>	You let out a heavy sigh of relief when you saw the bathroom. The big man dropped the cuff and stood off to the side, crossing his arms.</p>
<p>	“Oh god, thank you.” You hurried into the bathroom. You were beginning to close the door when Thomas’s hand slammed down on it, stopping you from closing it all the way. Flinching again, you looked up at him. “I can’t close the door?”</p>
<p>	It was times like this Thomas wished he could speak. He pointed to his eye, and then he pointed to you. Don’t get any ideas. Was what he was trying to say.</p>
<p>	He saw your body tense in fear and embarrassment, and what annoyed him was that he was starting to feel bad. Most people who came through here were killed off in a day or two. Their fear and pain were short. </p>
<p>	Thomas took the doorknob, closing the door almost entirely, giving you optimal privacy. At least if you came out brandishing a weapon he’d have a reason to reject this ‘gift’ once and for all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It amazed you how every single surface in this godforsaken house was sticky with something. It didn’t even seem to matter what surface! The walls, ceiling, everything. You had to hover over the toilet while you did your business, and the sink let out brown-ish water when you washed your hands. You desperately wanted to clean the entire house top to bottom. </p>
<p>	Well no, you desperately wanted to go home and hide under your covers and not come out for at least one full year, but still. You were grateful that you had come into this home unscathed, because you were positive that if you had so much as a single small cut, it would get a raging infection.</p>
<p>	You walked out of the bathroom, the large man leaning on the wall. He held out his hand, and it took you a moment to understand what he was signaling for you to do. </p>
<p>	“Oh.” You held up your handcuffed hand, and he grabbed the free cuff before walking you back to the bed. He cuffed you back to it, turning to leave.</p>
<p>	“Wait!” You called.</p>
<p>	The man froze, hand on the doorknob. Slowly, he turned back to you, glaring.</p>
<p>	Your blood turned cold at his expression, scared of what he might do if you pissed him off. You shifted, avoiding eye contact as you spoke next. “I-I just wanted to ask a few things. If that’s okay.”</p>
<p>	The man slowly plodded back to the bed, the floorboards straining under his weight. He knelt down, his glaring eyes making your heart race. Even kneeling, he seemed to tower over your cowering form. </p>
<p>	Letting out a shaky sigh, you swallowed, forcing yourself to speak. “Are you going to kill me?”</p>
<p>	He looked at you for a moment too long for comfort. You looked away, adrenaline already coursing through you from just being near him. </p>
<p>	He furrowed his brow, looking off to the side as he thought before finally shaking his head no.</p>
<p>	You sighed in relief, feeling your whole body relax. At least you weren’t going to die.</p>
<p>	“Okay, um, second question, are you going to r-… what are you going to do with me?” You choked on the word, your body tensing up again as you remembered all of the other things that could possibly happen to you while you were trapped in this house. </p>
<p>	The man paused for a moment, and he looked as lost as you felt. His eyes looked over your face, then back down to your body. You curled up, feeling exposed just by him looking at you. His gaze lingered on your body for a moment before he looked back up at your face.</p>
<p>	Again, he shook his head no.</p>
<p>	You weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but you let yourself relax a little. At least he seemed to be as confused by all of this as you were.</p>
<p>	“What’s your name?” You asked.</p>
<p>	The man stood, going to one of his drawers, shuffling around the inside contents. You weren’t sure what he was doing, when you heard a grunt of satisfaction as he held up a piece of paper. He walked back over, holding up the paper.</p>
<p>	The paper was old and yellowed, and had obviously been folded and unfolded many times. It was a stick figure family, four figures, with little arrows pointed to each one, childishly scribbled out names by each figure. He pointed to the smallest figure, with the word ‘Tomaz’ written next to it.</p>
<p>	“To-maz? Tomas…Thomas?” You asked, looking up at him.</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded, going back to the dresser and putting the drawing back inside. </p>
<p>	It kind of amazed you that this terrifying hulking monster had such a cute name like Thomas. Under different circumstances you might have laughed.</p>
<p>	“Well, I’m (y/n).” You offered. Thomas turned to you before nodding slightly, acknowledging that he heard you.</p>
<p>	“One more question, and then I won’t bother you anymore, I promise.” You paused. “Actually, sorry, two more questions?”</p>
<p>	Thomas crossed his arms. He didn’t make a move to leave, so you took it as an, ‘okay, get on with it.’</p>
<p>	“Okay, um, one, can I please have something to eat?” You hadn’t eaten for at least twenty-four hours, and your stomach was starting to hurt. Even though the house smelled like death, your hunger was beginning to cancel out your disgust. “And, well, maybe when you’re more comfortable, could you let me out of these cuffs long enough to clean a little?”</p>
<p>	He raised an eyebrow at you before turning and walking out the door, closing it behind him. No nods, no expression, no hint at what he was thinking.</p>
<p>	Oh no. You folded into yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. You didn’t know if that was a no to the cleaning, or a no to the food, but your heart sank as your mind went into overdrive, terrified that you had just pissed off the man holding you hostage.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cornbread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas headed upstairs, seeing if there was any food that could be spared. Luda Mae had already left for the day to look after the diner, so the men were left to fend for themselves when it came to food. Thomas looked around the kitchen, your words echoing in his head about you wanting to clean.</p><p>	Intruders did usually seem pretty disgusted when they saw the inside of the house, but he never thought anything of it, mostly because their opinions wouldn’t matter after they were dead. The thought that you thought the house was disgusting, however, was beginning to irk him. </p><p>	He groaned to himself, looking around for anything he could give you quickly. He opened up the fridge, spotting a pan of old corn bread that had been made forever ago. Thomas jabbed at the bread with his finger, feeling how rock-hard it was. Well, it was food.</p><p>	He grabbed the pan and headed back to his room, suddenly aware of how dirty the house truly was. He frowned deeply at the realization. You probably thought you were go great, to be born anywhere but this particular town. To not have to kill to live. To have a pretty, normal face and a pretty normal life. </p><p>	The muscles in his arms began to tense as his thoughts got the better of him. He stomped to his room, throwing open the door.</p><p>	The door slammed against the wall, making you jump. </p><p>	Thomas glared down at you, tossing the pan into the room before slamming the door shut once again, making you flinch again.</p><p>	The pan slid across the floor into the center of the room.</p><p>	You cowered in your corner, too scared to move. Thomas’ footsteps stomped away from the door, and only when you could no longer hear them did you finally allow yourself to relax a little. </p><p>	Sighing shakily, you looked at what he had thrown into the room. A baking pan with what looked like corn bread inside. It was definitely out of arm’s reach.</p><p>	Skootching as far as you could without dislocating your arm, you reached out your feet, trying to grab the pan between them. The tips of your shoes could just barely graze the pan. You tried to pinch your toes together, hoping the rubber of your shoes would somehow stick to the metal of the pan just enough to pull it just a little closer, but you only pushed the pan farther away.</p><p>	“Damn it.” You mumbled, trying to elongate your body further, trying to get your feet to reach the pan once again, but it was no use. It was completely out of reach.</p><p>*<br/>*</p><p>	Thomas tended to his chores, getting his aggression out through physical work. Very slowly, his anger ebbed into nothing more than irritation. He did make a decision. He would stop trying to tip toe around you as if you were the one with the power. He was going to sleep without his mask, in his own bed. And if you were scared, then so be it. If you thought he was ugly, then so be it.</p><p>	As day turned to night, Thomas grew more and more uneasy with his decision to sleep in his room. But, he knew he couldn’t avoid you forever. It was his room, and there was not a lot in this world that was his.</p><p>	Thomas walked to his room, opening the door and peering inside.</p><p>	You had fallen asleep, your entire body stretched out, your feet mere inched from the cornbread. Your cuffed hand was turning blue from lack of blood flow, and your neck was crained in an awkward position. It was obvious you had passed out while trying to get to the food.</p><p>	His sadistic side felt a twinge of joy at the idea that he had made you feel as bad as he felt. He smirked, picking up the pan and setting it on the bedside table next to you. He picked you up, setting you on the bed and undoing the cuff, letting your dead hand fall onto the bed. He took your other wrist and cuffed it instead, while he headed to the bathroom.</p><p>	Thomas stripped, taking off his mask and sighing in relief at breathing in fresh air. He turned on the shower, stepping inside. It had been at least a week since he had bathed, and this decision to shower had nothing at all to do with the fact that he was now aware of how gross you thought his house was.</p><p>	He made the shower quick, just scrubbing away at any obviously dirty places on his skin before getting out again. Shuffling sounds came from his bedroom, so he quickly redressed and stepped out.</p><p>	You were awake, hunched over the side table and eating the old cornbread, the bread so hard that your chewing sounded crunchy. Your dead arm was limply at your side, the other hand too restricted to help you eat, your face shoved into the pan without any semblance of dignity.</p><p>	You glanced up as you ate, noticing Thomas step out of the bathroom. He was wearing his shirt and pants, without his regular apron. Your eyes widened when you saw his face-his real face-but you quickly looked back at the cornbread, focusing on eating as fast as you could in case he tried to take the food away.</p><p>	Thomas crossed his arms, watching you silently. You continued eating until you couldn’t get any more cornbread out of the pan, the corners too tight for your mouth to reach.</p><p>	Pulling back, you breathed deeply, realizing you had forgotten to breathe while you ate.</p><p>	Thomas plodded to the other side of the bed, lying down. In response, you slipped out of the bed, curling up next to it. He glanced at you as you did so, making you worry that you had done something wrong again.</p><p>	“Th-thank you for the food.” You mumbled. “And for switching the cuffs.” A tingly feeling was finally returning to your hand, and some color was as well.  </p><p>	Thomas nodded slightly before turning away from you. You knew that you should have left it at that, but you felt like there was more to be said.</p><p>	“Thomas?” You whispered.</p><p>	He turned back to you, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>	You breathed out slowly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings earlier. I didn’t mean to.”</p><p>	His shoulders slumped, completely taken off guard. He turned away from you again, pulling a blanket over himself. An apology, when was the last time he had heard one of those? Thomas wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.</p><p>	Well, at least he was sleeping in his own bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Shower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas woke up to your face. It startled him for a second, but he didn’t let it show. Not that it mattered, seeing as you were still asleep.</p><p>	You had still refused to sleep in the bed, but you hadn’t avoided it as much as you had the past couple nights. Your arms were folded on the bed, your head resting in them. Looks like you had finally gotten wise to all the times you almost lost your hand. </p><p>	He knew why you refused to sleep in his bed, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew what you were scared of. </p><p>	Thomas had never taken advantage of the women who had come through his home. He simply thought of them as food, as a job that he needed to get over with for his family. Thomas didn’t want to be like Hoyt or Monty. He didn’t feel any animosity towards the unfortunate travelers who stumbled onto their property, not any more than he felt towards the hogs back when he worked at the factory.</p><p>	It was all survival, that’s all it was. </p><p>	He turned, looking at your face, observing it quietly. This was pretty much the only time he had seen you when you weren’t crying or blabbering. He looked at the curves of your face, your eyelids twitching as you slept.</p><p>	Thomas was still having trouble categorizing you. Not family, not food, so what where you supposed to be to him? He wouldn’t touch you where you didn’t want to be touched. But then what was the point of you? Because he knew that’s what Hoyt meant when he dragged you into Thomas’ room that first day.</p><p>	Your eyes twitched as they opened slowly. You blinked tiredly before the two of you locked eyes. Thomas knew his face was exposed, but much like last night, you didn’t react.</p><p>	You gave him a tired smile, pushing away from the bed, stretching your arms as best as you could.</p><p>	“Morning.” You said tiredly. You licked your lips, realizing how dry they were. Your mouth felt like cotton. </p><p>	Thomas watched your tongue drag over your lips, wetting them. You were attractive, he had to admit that. And now that you finally seemed a bit calmer around him, he could actually enjoy looking at you for a while.</p><p>	You glanced at him nervously, breathing in deeply. “Thomas, if it’s okay, could I take a shower?”</p><p>	Thomas nodded slowly, reaching into his pocket and taking out the cuff keys, reaching over and undoing the cuff on your wrist. </p><p>	You blinked, surprised before gently rubbing your wrist. This was the first time in three days neither of your wrists had metal rubbing them raw. Your wrist was red, and it stung.</p><p>	He stood, heading to the bathroom, opening the door for you while simultaneously blocking the door out with his bulky form. He watched you head to the bathroom, putting his hand on the door when you tried to close it.</p><p>	You gave him a tired look. You weren’t surprised, but you were disappointed. “I can’t close the door while I shower?”</p><p>	Thomas shook his head.</p><p>	“Okay.” You sighed. Stepping into the bathroom, you tried to hide behind the wall as best as you could as you undressed. You tried to think of Thomas as some sort of prison warden, just doing his job, unaroused by the sight of your naked body.</p><p>	Walking to the shower, you looked inside, flinching at all the stains on the inside of the tub. You ran the water, pointing the shower head around the length of the tub, trying to clean off what you could with just the water. </p><p>	Realizing that was a lost cause, you sighed, stepping into the shower.</p><p>	Thomas wasn’t looking at you. Or at the very least, was trying not to look at you. He found his eyes flitting to the side, catching a glimpse of your silhouette behind the shower curtain. Nervousness began to spread through him. </p><p>	His body had always been a tool for work. Other people’s bodies were work. What he never dared to think about was pleasure. </p><p>	He shook out his hands, shaking his head, scolding himself for being so stupid. He had no idea what was wrong with him today, but he had better snap out of it. </p><p>	You stepped out of the shower quickly, not wanting to stay in the brownish water very long. You felt almost dirtier than when you went in. You dried off with your clothes, realizing that there was no towel. </p><p>	After you were dressed again, you stepped out of the bathroom in your now-wet clothes.</p><p>	“I wish I had my things.” You mumbled to yourself, walking past Thomas to the bed, sitting on it. </p><p>	You gave him a thin smile. “I guess, time to get cuffed again?”</p><p>	Thomas nodded.</p><p>	You cuffed yourself, Thomas observing you to make sure that you weren’t trying anything. When he made sure you were secure, he left the room, leaving you to yourself.</p><p>	Something was tugging at his mind. It wasn’t a fully formed thought, just an urge. Thomas walked upstairs, and then outside, to the abandoned cars. He looked for the one car that seemed new, going inside and popping the trunk.</p><p>	You said you wanted your things. Well, Thomas could provide that much, at least.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Yoga</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were halfway though deciding whether to take a nap or just to stare at the wall when Thomas came back with two large suitcases in his arms. Your eyes widened when you realized they were yours.</p>
<p>	“Oh my god, Thomas!” You cried happily, reaching out to take one. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”</p>
<p>	Thomas felt his chest tighten at your gratitude, not used to receiving it from anyone. He sat the cases next to you, watching as you opened them as if they were Christmas presents. You dove into your possessions, your eyes wet as you looked at the things that already belonged to you.</p>
<p>	“Thank you so much.” You whimpered, clutching a big, yellow shirt to your chest. It was objectively a fairly ugly shirt, even Thomas thought so.</p>
<p>	You glanced up at his questioning gaze before laughing softly, shaking your head.</p>
<p>	“This was my grandpa’s.” You explained, smelling the shirt. It didn’t smell like him, it hadn’t for a long time, but it did smell like you, and in that disgusting house the scent of anything familiar was almost better than air or food. “It’s precious to me, I can’t ever lose this shirt.”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slowly, turning to leave you alone to sort through your things.</p>
<p>	“Wait!” You called.</p>
<p>	He turned back to you, tilting his head slightly.</p>
<p>	“Well, do you have to go anywhere today? C-can you stay here?” You asked.</p>
<p>	Thomas looked at you wearily before nodding slightly. It was true, he didn’t have anywhere to be unless more intruders found their way onto his town. He sat down on his bed, glancing at you.</p>
<p>	“If you don’t mind…can you take off the cuff?” You asked. “I promise I’ll be good.” You added quickly at the look he gave you.</p>
<p>	You heard him sigh heavily behind his mask. You were scared you had angered him again, when he held out his hand. You carefully gave him your cuffed wrist, scared he might break your arm.</p>
<p>	Thomas pulled out the key, unlocking the cuff on your wrist. </p>
<p>	Instantly, your wrist felt better without the metal rubbing against your skin. Moaning in relief, you rested your head on the bed. “Thank god…no, thank you…”</p>
<p>	Again, the strangeness of being praised made Thomas tense up. He eyed you as you stood, walking around in a small circle, stretching out your legs and arms. </p>
<p>	You knelt down, picking up an old flannel. Throwing modesty to the wind, you peeled off your old shirt, putting on the clean flannel in its place. You could feel Thomas watching you, but you had gone to the bathroom and showered in front of him, so changing didn’t feel like a big deal.</p>
<p>	You then pulled out a pair of sleep pants, deciding those would be easier to kneel in all day than in jeans, making quick work of changing out of them.</p>
<p>	Thomas watched you quietly, not entirely sure what to do with you. Take you for a walk, like a dog? What would stop you from running away? It wasn’t like he could hold your hand and go for a leisurely stroll. </p>
<p>	Actually, the more he thought about it, he could do that, but the thought of it just seemed weird. </p>
<p>	Luckily, you had already decided what to do with your time. You stretched your hands far up in the sky before leaning down, touching your toes. Slowly, you stepped back from your fingers, going into downward dog position.</p>
<p>	Thomas raised his eyebrows, watching your body move into different positions in front of him. As you slowly transitioned into the warrior pose, you noticed his quizzical look.</p>
<p>	“Yoga.” You smiled. “Supposed to help people relax and stuff.”</p>
<p>	He nodded slightly, watching you repeat the cycle of poses, your body moving slowly and deliberately. It was strange, seeing a person being a person. No one was dignified in death. Everyone who faced death would cry, and scream, and struggle, showing the worst sides of themselves as they struggled to return to the world of the living. But seeing someone just exist, that was rare for Thomas.</p>
<p>	Your back arched proudly as you faced the ceiling, before kneeling into a new position. Your breathing even seemed more calculated as you moved.</p>
<p>	Yoga was a new term, for sure. But all of society seemed to be changing around him and his family. The people who came through the town wore crazier colors, wear knit things, their hair longer and different than how people wore it when he was growing up. </p>
<p>	You were very different from most people he had seen growing up. You had seen his face and not flinched. Yes, you had cried and carried on when you were brought to his room, but you had adapted quickly. Perhaps it was just survival instincts, but, it was nice to have someone just exist around him.</p>
<p>	“Thomas?” You asked suddenly.</p>
<p>	He jerked up, looking at you.</p>
<p>	“I don’t care if I have to wear the cuffs, or a leash, or anything else, but can we please go for a walk?” You glanced away. You weren’t actually partial to the idea of wearing a leash, but you wanted to see direct sunlight again.</p>
<p>	Thomas went still, wondering for a moment if you were able to read his mind. He glanced at the cuffs before nodding, unlocking them from the bed.</p>
<p>	You held out your wrists obediently, but Thomas shook his head, taking your wrist and pulling it behind you.</p>
<p>	“Oh.” You said, putting your hands behind your back. Thomas cuffed them, before nodding to himself, taking your arm and leading you out of his bedroom.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sunlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a sight you feared you would never see again. The sun. It was magnificent. Seeing it filter through the trees, the shadows creating a pattern on your skin. The birds were singing, as if it were just any other day. The sun was too bright. It had only taken a few days for your eyes to forget the radiance of the star.</p>
<p>	It warmed you, and comforted you like a familiar blanket. A low hanging branch was right in your eyeline, and every one of your instincts told you to reach out and feet the leaves, but your hands were cuffed behind your back. You couldn’t reach out for it.</p>
<p>	Instead, you nuzzled your face into the branch, smiles as the edges of the leaves tickled your nose and grabbed at your hair. You laughed as the leaves pulled at your hair as you tired to pull away. </p>
<p>	Thomas watched you quietly as you moved through the branch. In the sunlight your cheeks looked rosier, and he realized this was your first genuine smile since you had been dragged into his bedroom, understandably. His chest tightened at the sight of it.</p>
<p>	You turned to him, the smile still on your face, when a small twig poked you just under your eye. Yelping, you jumped back, laughing more, shaking your head.</p>
<p>	Thomas chuckled, his lips turning up into a smile. Grinning at him, you walked back over to him, ducking under the low branch. You seemed so real, and alive. </p>
<p>	“Thank you.” You looked around, at nature. It felt so safe and familiar to you, and so clean in comparison to the house.</p>
<p>	He nodded slightly, trying his hardest not to feel flattered, or at the very least, not to let it show. </p>
<p>	Your attention was quickly captured when you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. “Look!” You cried.</p>
<p>	Thomas jumped to attention, feeling for a weapon that wasn’t there, feverishly scanning the horizon for intruders. He frowned when he saw none. </p>
<p>	“There!” You hissed, indicating with your head a small rabbit that was standing close to the tree.</p>
<p>	Thomas’ whole body slumped in relief when he realized there was no one for him to kill. He glanced down at the rabbit, but his focus went right back to you, at how wide your smile grew and how your eyes sparkled at the sight of the small creature. Such a little thing had made you so happy. </p>
<p>	The joy in your eyes twisted into something else, bringing Thomas back to reality. Your eyes welled with tears as you watched the small rabbit hop away. </p>
<p>	You breathed out your nose, shaking your head trying to blink the tears away. Thomas put a hand on your shoulder, and you shrugged him off. </p>
<p>	“Sorry.” You pressed your lips into a line, a tear falling down your cheek. “I’m just-. I’m so happy I’m alive, is all.” You shook your head, trying to wipe off the tear with some fabric but being unable to reach your face. “I’m sorry, this is so stupid, I-. I’m sorry.” A few more tears fell and you looked up at Thomas, laughing an empty laugh. “I can’t wipe them off.”</p>
<p>	Thomas looked at you sadly, reaching up and brushing his thumb across your cheek. He frowned deeply in concentration as he wiped at your tears. He wiped your cheeks until they were dry, the awkwardness of his movements making you smile, just a bit. </p>
<p>	You were about to thank him, when a voice that made your blood run cold pierced the calm scene around the two of you.</p>
<p>	“Thomas Brown Hewitt, what the damn hell do you think you’re doing?” Hoyt screamed, charging at the two of you.</p>
<p>	“No, no no no!” You cried, running behind Thomas. </p>
<p>	Thomas took your arm as a reflex, years of grabbing victims and listening to everything Hoyt said blinding him to what was happening.</p>
<p>	“Do you just do whatever anyone tells you to?!” Holt yelled, grabbing your other arm and ripping you from Thomas’s side.</p>
<p>	“No, Thomas, please!” You fell to the ground, your arms bending painfully as Hoyt dragged you away, the cuffs making it impossible for you to get your balance or stand back up. “Please Thomas!”</p>
<p>	“Shut the hell up, you damn bitch.” Hoyt growled as he pulled you to the house. “You’ve outlived yer worth.”</p>
<p>	“Hoyt, Thomas, what in God’s name is going on?” A woman whose voice you didn’t recognize walked out of the house, holding a rag in her hands. </p>
<p>	“Thomas, please, don’t give me to him!” You sobbed.</p>
<p>	Thomas snapped at attention, stomping over and putting his hand on Hoyt’s arm. </p>
<p>	Hoyt turned his head, sneering at Thomas. “What? Yer tellin’ me no, son?”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slowly, glaring down his uncle. He took your arm, pulling you up, showing so emotion when you whimpered in pain. You shuffled close to Thomas’ side, doing your best to hide behind him, burying your face in his shoulder as you sniffled, trying to pull yourself together.</p>
<p>	Luda Mae walked down the porch steps, putting her hands on her hips. “Someone better explain what’s going on here.”</p>
<p>	“Yer boy is getting some ideas. Might be my fault.” Hoyt turned to look at her, his expression dark. “I think we need to have a little family meeting.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Family Meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They sat around the dinner table, staring each other down. Luda Mae had her arms crossed, angerly looking at Hoyt, Monty and Hoyt were looking at Thomas, and Thomas rocked back and forth in his chair slowly, looking up at his mama.</p><p>	The only sounds came from the living room. The sounds of struggling and scraping and clanking. But no one at the dinner table paid the sounds any mind. They were too busy sitting in their own thoughts, already coming up with cutting replies to fighting words that hadn’t been said yet.</p><p>	“Next time you and Monty go and get a fool idea, talk to me about it next time first!” Luda Mae snapped, breaking the silence. “Especially when it comes to my boy!”</p><p>	“We thought we’d help him become a man!” Monty replied. “We didn’t think he’d go and fall in love with ‘er.”</p><p>	Thomas shook his head slightly at the statement, and Hoyt piped up in response to Monty’s statement.</p><p>	“It.” Hoyt said. “Fall in love, with it.”</p><p>	Thomas glanced at Hoyt, frowning.</p><p>	Hoyt stood, shaking his head. “We thought you would use it up for a few days and chop it up when you got tired of it. I didn’t think that I’d have to explain every damn thing to you!”</p><p>	“Hey, don’t you go blaming Thomas for your idea.” Luda Mae stood as well, meeting Hoyt toe to toe. The two of them glared at each other, both of them angry and confused and scared of one day feeling the brunt of the consequences of their cannibalism. </p><p>	“Look, there’s an easy way out.” Monty raised his hands, getting their attention. “We just kill ‘er. Then everything is back to normal.”</p><p>	Thomas stood abruptly, shaking his head.</p><p>	“Oh? You don’t wanna?” Hoyt hissed, turning to Thomas. “You never had a problem killin’ before, now. You’re getting’ too big for yer britches if you want to go against your family like this.”</p><p>	Thomas walked up to his uncle, going toe to toe with Hoyt just like his mother had. Only Thomas towered over Hoyt, and both men knew that Thomas had power in strength. But Hoyt had power in the family.</p><p>	“If it weren’t for me, you’d have cut it up the moment I drug it into the house. You’d never have stopped to ponder if you should kill or not, you would’ve just done it. It’s my doing, that you found yourself that cute little playmate.” Hoyt hissed. Thomas frowned, taking a step back. </p><p>	Hoyt took a step forward, closing the small gap that Thomas had made between them.</p><p>	“We’d be eating that meat tonight, if not for me and Monty. You like that thing living in your room and eating our food? That’s thanks to us. You’d never go and pick one out for yer own.” Hoyt put his thumb in his pockets, puffing out his chest, knowing that he would always have the upper hand with someone as fiercely loyal as Thomas. “But now, keeping that thing around is a danger to our family.”</p><p>	Thomas looked away.</p><p>	“You’d turn your back on your family? The only people who ever loved you? Just for some pussy?” Hoyt began yelling, taking another step forward, making Thomas take another step back. “You’d betray your family for some bitch?!”</p><p>	“Tommy.” Luda Mae walked around Hoyt, putting her hand on Thomas’ arm. “While I am mad at Hoyt and Monty, Hoyt is right. The longer we keep the girl alive, the more chance she has of escaping.”</p><p>	Thomas glanced at her, his angry façade finally breaking. He folded into his mama, hugging her tight. Luda Mae hugged her boy, petting his back.</p><p>	“I know, I know, baby boy.” She mumbled. “But she’s obviously got a hold of you, and we can’t afford her getting out. She’s got to go, tonight.”</p><p>	Thomas shook his head, sinking down onto his knees, hugging her around the stomach. He kept shaking his head, looking up at her with desperate eyes.</p><p>	“For fuck’s sake.” Hoyt snapped. “You have sex one time and you’re whipped!”</p><p>	“Hoyt, hand to God I’ll pop you upside the head if you upset Tommy anymore!” Luda Mae snapped, petting Thomas’ hair, looking down at her son.</p><p>	Her chest tightened at the sight of him. The poor boy never had a fighting chance in this world, not even from the moment that he was born. The world had been cruel, and it had tried to take away what she knew Tommy had inside. No one but their family could see what he really was capable of, and now he was sweet on some poor girl that had only lived this long on a whim of two men. If the girl could make Thomas feel like a real man, maybe they could afford her just a bit longer.</p><p>	“A week.” Luda Mae said softly.</p><p>	Thomas’ eyes widened, and Hoyt made an incredulous sound.</p><p>	“The hell you mean, a week?” Hoyt asked.</p><p>	Luda Mae looked back at Hoyt, glaring at him. “We can keep the girl alive for one week. After that, someone other than Thomas will cut her up.”</p><p>	“No way in hell!” Hoyt snapped.</p><p>	“If she makes my Tommy happy, he can keep ‘er a little longer.” Luda Mae said sternly, glaring Hoyt and Monty down. “Understood?”</p><p>	Monty shrugged. “Seems reasonable to me.”</p><p>	Hoyt clicked his tongue, pulling Thomas off the floor by his arm. “Stop making an ass of yourself, boy.”</p><p>	Thomas stared at his mama, both relief and despair coursing through his body in equal measures. He’d get to keep you, but only for a week.</p><p>	He kissed his mama’s cheek, turning and hurrying to the living room. </p><p>	You were tied up on the floor, four ropes pulling your limbs out in different directions, making you look like a starfish. Hoyt had duct taped your mouth shut, wrapping the roll around your entire head, your hair tangled into the tape. Tears ran down your face, your nails already bloody from scratching at the ropes.</p><p>	Thomas knelt down next to you, pulling a knife out of its holster, cutting your ropes. You whimpered in relief through your nose as the ropes were cut, your arms and legs completely numb, falling to the floor uselessly as he cut you free. Thomas picked you up, tucking you safely into his arms.</p><p>	He started walking to his room, the sounds of your already muffled crying becoming even more muffled as you buried your face in his chest, pressing yourself into this one beacon of safety you had in the house.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Duct Tape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas sat you on his bed, looking over the duct tape that was wrapped around your head. Your hair was completely tangled in it, there was no way to get it off without causing you immense pain.</p>
<p>	Your sniffling had died down from the moment he started holding you, and now that you were safe in his room all that remained were the shaky aftershock breathing of a hard cry. You eyed Thomas as he walked to his desk, pulling out a pair of scissors. A part of you knew what was probably going to come next, but you didn’t want to accept it.</p>
<p>	He walked over, slipping one blade of the scissor under your hair that was above the duct tape, slowly cutting around your head.</p>
<p>	You started crying again as he did so. It felt silly, to cry over your hair being cut after all that you were going through. After all you still had to get through. But it was your hair. It was yours to do with as you please, to grow or cut as you saw fit. And even that was being taken away from you.</p>
<p>	You knew Thomas wasn’t cutting your hair in a sadistic way, he wasn’t getting some sort of sick glee out of taking your hair away. He was trying to remove the tape without hurting you. But that didn’t make every sound of every strand being cut hurt you any less.</p>
<p>	When he finally cut around your head, the tape was still stuck to the lower strands of your hair. Thomas gently cupped your face, tiling it down so you were looking at the bed while he slipped the scissors under the tape, slowly cutting the hair that was still stuck. He cut around your head slowly, and you knew he wasn’t getting every hair. It would hurt when it was finally ripped off. </p>
<p>	He moved your head again so you were facing him, and Thomas slid the scissors close to your cheek, putting the edge of one of the blades under the tape, slowly cutting the tape from your face snip by snip, creating a break in the many layers of duct tape. </p>
<p>	Finally, there was a small gap in the duct tape. Thomas set down the scissors, slowly peeling back the tape just enough to get a hold of it.</p>
<p>	He glanced at you before looking away, ripping the tape from your face as quickly as he could. You screamed in pain, new tears forming in your eyes as hair that he had missed in his cutting was ripped from your scalp. What was worse was that there was still tape around most of your head.</p>
<p>	Thomas grabbed a chunk of tape covered in your hair, jerking it away, again not making it all the way off of you. You screamed, sobbing as more hair was ripped from the lower half of your head.</p>
<p>	“Please, stop, stop!” You begged, grabbing Thomas’ arms, only half of your mouth free from the tape.</p>
<p>	He frowned, wiping a bit of saliva from your lip before ripping off the rest of the tape.</p>
<p>	Screaming, you curled into a ball, sobbing heavily, your lip bleeding where the duct tape had pulled a bit of dead skin from your lip. You rocked back and forth, clutching your head, which was in pain in all directions. </p>
<p>	Thomas balled up the hairy wad of silver tape, tossing it into a corner of the room where you wouldn’t have to look at it. He put a hand on your back, attempting to comfort you. </p>
<p>	You grasped at your hair, or rather what was left of it. It felt choppy, and short. Almost like a bob. Almost. You felt the new edges and hairs that were either much longer or much shorter than others. The stinging was finally starting to recede. </p>
<p>	Sniffing, you looked up at Thomas. “W-was that lady your mom?” </p>
<p>	Thomas nodded, brushing some stray hair off of your shoulder.</p>
<p>	“I-I can tell she loves you a lot.” You wiped your face, rubbing your eyes vigorously, enjoying the nonsensical array of lights that appeared as you did so. You had heard everything from your place in the living room. You had a week to live. But you ignored that for now, you just focused on the light behind your eyes, the lights that had followed you your whole life. Maybe that’s what death would be. Dancing in the lights you could only see once your eyes were closed.</p>
<p>	Thomas pulled you into his lap, gently rocking you like his mother used to when he was crying. Before Monty or Hoyt would come into the room and man up, anyway. Thomas remembered exactly when he felt safest, when his mama held him. One arm wrapped around his back, holding up his head, his head tucked into her neck. The other holding up his legs. The perfect cocoon of safety. </p>
<p>	Carefully, he mimicked the hold with you, his hand cupping the back of your head and the other holding your legs, your head tucked into the safety of his neck. He was trying to say, ‘I’m here. You’re safe.’ Maybe that was what his mama had tried to tell him all those years before he was grown, before his size had created its own impenetrable safety around him.</p>
<p>	Slowly, you calmed in his arms, your breathing returning to normal. But Thomas didn’t stop holding you, and you didn’t try to break away.</p>
<p>	You looked at your nails, that had been bloodied from scratching at the ropes that had held you down. Blood was under your nails, and in the small crevices in your skin as well. You looked at Thomas’ hand, that was so much bigger than yours. But your nails looked like his now. Dirty. </p>
<p>	Blowing air out your nose, you reached out, running your fingertips over his nails. Thomas glanced down at what you were doing, admiring how small your hands were while you admired how large his were. </p>
<p>	The gentleness of your touch tickled a bit, making Thomas smile slightly as you continued running your fingers over his hand, as if you were exploring it. He opened his hand, palm up, and watched as you traced the lined on his palm.</p>
<p>	“This is your lifeline.” You said quietly, tracing one of the deeper lines. “Palm readers are supposed to know what these lines mean.”</p>
<p>	He nodded slightly, his body finally relaxing from the event that had transpired upstairs. The feeling of you touching him was a kind of release he had never experienced before.</p>
<p>	You held up your palm, showing him your lines. “A palm reader once said that I have tiny little crosses on my palm. Supposed to mean I’m psychic or something.” You giggled softly. “If I were, things might have been a lot different.”</p>
<p>	Thomas chuckled, taking his turn to touch the lines on your palm. He didn’t see any little crosses, but maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a palm reader. Your palms were so soft. He wondered what it was that you did for a living that could spare you a life of rough hands.</p>
<p>	You finally broke from his hold, sitting across from him, holding up your hand. </p>
<p>	Thomas stared at it, still trying to see the lines, but you giggled, interrupting his thoughts. “Put your palm on mine. I want to compare.”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slightly, pressing his hand against yours. </p>
<p>	Your eyes widened as you looked at the difference between the two of you. His hand was not only bigger, but his fingers even had more girth than yours. Length wise, his fingers were at least an inch longer than yours. </p>
<p>	Thomas chuckled, curling the tops of his fingers over yours. </p>
<p>	“Amazing!” You laughed softly, clapping your hands together. “You must have gotten all the girls in high school!”</p>
<p>	Immediately, Thomas sobered up, looking at your face for any hint that you were teasing him. But you seemed completely genuine. Thomas hadn’t even made it to high school. And girls? That was laughable. You had seen his face, so you must have known how disgusting he was, so why would you lie to him like that?</p>
<p>	You were too busy looking at your bloody nails to notice his analysis of you. It was bothering you, to have blood caked under your nails.</p>
<p>	“Can I wash my hands?” You asked. </p>
<p>	He continued staring at you for a moment, still believing you were trying to insult him but not seeing any sign of it on your face. Finally, he nodded. </p>
<p>	“Thank you.” You stood, walking to the bathroom, vigorously washing your hands in the questionable water that came out of the sink. You were suddenly very grateful by the lack of mirrors in Thomas’ bathroom. After everything that had happened that day, the last thing that you needed reminding of was the fact that you were going to die in a week with hair that wasn’t your choice.</p>
<p>	Thomas listened to you washing your hands, looking down at his own. You had seemed very impressed, if he was being honest with himself. It was just so hard to believe that anyone could be impressed by him. </p>
<p>	He grabbed a clean rag from his bedside drawer, quickly rubbing his hands with it until they were clean. He pushed the cloth under his nails, trying to get everything underneath them as well. He had to work fast or risk being caught by you. Thomas wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want to be caught, but the fear of you coming out of the bathroom spurred him to scrub harder and faster. The rag worked fairly well, and his hands were the cleanest he had seen them in a long time.</p>
<p>	Why was it that he wanted to continue impressing you? You had only been his for a few days, and yet the idea of parting with you made his chest ache. He had hated you at first. Just another piece of meat to be cut. But suddenly you were human. A human all for his own. Someone to smile with, to hear the breathing of as he fell asleep. </p>
<p>	He had resigned himself to never having that. Hoyt was so cruel, to give it to him, just to take it from him once again just as he was beginning to not be able to live without it. </p>
<p>	You probably hated him. You probably wanted to be home, with your family, with the people who loved you. They would probably miss you for the rest of their lives, always wondering what had happened to you. They would miss your yoga, how you got excited about rabbits, about how you giggled when you messed up, and how you knew about strange things like palm reading.</p>
<p>	And your family would have a billion other things to miss about you once you were gone. They had had a lifetime to learn things about you that would become bittersweet as you continued to never come home ever again.</p>
<p>	Thomas began to feel sick, letting the rag drop to the floor. You weren’t his. You belonged to a group of people that you had laughed and cried with. Thomas was going to taint family nights and outings with friends and evenings that no one knew they would miss until they were gone. He had taken you from them, a group of people he had never met, but whose lives he was going to ruin, anyway.</p>
<p>	He glanced at your open luggage, looking at the big yellow shirt. Your grandfather’s, you’d told him. The shirt seemed to stare him down, as if your dead grandfather was watching him. Thomas knelt, closing the suitcase and zipping it up, plodding back to the bed, his stomach twisting in exactly the same way it had the first time he had cut up a human being.</p>
<p>	You stepped out of the bathroom, happy to be moving around without something around your wrist.</p>
<p>	Thomas sat on the bed, taking off his mask as was his nighttime routine. His movements seemed slower, and he sat back against the headboard, glancing at you with tired eyes. </p>
<p>	When was it you had started to trust him? You wondered to yourself. Process of elimination, you supposed. Everyone else in the house had wanted you dead, but Thomas had consistently been your protector. You knew that you were probably exhibiting signs of Stockholm syndrome, but you guessed none of that would matter in a week, anyway.</p>
<p>	You began to strip, glancing at your suitcase, frowning slightly. Hadn’t that just been open?</p>
<p>	Thomas held up his hand to stop you as you knelt to open it back up. Looking up at him, you began to feel self-conscious. You should have picked out pajamas before stripping.</p>
<p>	Moving to the edge of the bed, Thomas held out his hand looking into your eyes. Your face flushed as you stood, putting your hand in his. His hand was shaking, ever so slightly. Gently, he pulled you to the bed. You crawled onto the bed, almost forgetting to breathe as he placed his hand on your shoulder, slowly pushing you back onto your pillow. </p>
<p>	You felt no fear as you looked up at him. His eyes seemed so full of emotions that you couldn’t get a read on a single one.</p>
<p>	“Thomas?” You whispered.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Life and Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas remembered the first time he skinned a human face. It was a turning point for him, back when he first started butchering humans. Deciding to take that handsome soldier’s face and wear it as his own was the moment Thomas’ inhibitions about doing what needed to be done went out the window.</p>
<p>	He had looked down on the man’s face, at his good features and his blue eyes. Thomas remembered everything about that man. The jealousy he had felt in that moment was so burning hot that Thomas almost felt like he was going to puke. This man was attractive, he’d had a normal life, and he was strong. This man had probably never been a victim on the playground. Hadn’t had to stay with one job with a vicious boss to help take care of his family. This man, because of his face, had so much that Thomas never had. Thomas wanted it.</p>
<p>	Skinning his face was easier than Thomas thought it would be. Not physically. Physically, Thomas had worked with animal skins and leathers before. He knew all the steps of skinning an animal. But, emotionally, it was much easier than Thomas ever would have guessed. It was just like Hoyt had said. Meat was meat. Bone was bone. And skin was skin.</p>
<p>	No other face’s backstory stood out in Thomas’ mind as well as that first soldier boy. After that, much like going to work every day, the horrors Thomas did just became a mundane pattern that must be done to feed his family. </p>
<p>	Thomas had pictured living a normal life a lot, and he usually pictured himself with the soldier boy’s face instead of his own. With a wife, and maybe a kid at this point. A small house somewhere, where his mama could visit whenever she wanted. Of course, in the fantasy, he actually had the soldier boy’s face, instead of just wearing it. And his wife was beautiful and kind, who could cook and liked touching Thomas.</p>
<p>	That was always a big part of the fantasy, that his wife had to like touching him. Not just sexually, but just small touches throughout the day. A hug and kiss when Thomas got home from work. A shoulder massage when he told her about his day. Holding hands under the table while the two of them ate dinner. And of course, she had to enjoy being touched by Thomas too. He was always eager to touch her in his fantasies. Cupping her face and seeing her smile, her lying across his lap as the two of them watched TV, reaching out and stroking her back in the middle of the night to make sure she was still there.</p>
<p>	The woman never had an exact face. It changed a lot. Sometimes it was barely even a face, more of an idea. Occasionally he would fill in the face with one of the victims that had been on his chopping block, but that always tainted the fantasy with her real expressions of terror and disgust when she had seen Thomas. </p>
<p>	Never once had Thomas had his own face when he pictured taking someone to bed. And if he had, he would have at least worn his normal mask that covered the bottom half of his face. But none of that was happening right now.</p>
<p>	You were looking up at him, your expression tired but unafraid as Thomas gently held you down by your shoulder. He knew you had no intention of moving away from him, but he was afraid that if he took his hand away, he wouldn’t have the courage to touch you again. And Thomas wasn’t the handsome sailor, or wearing his comfort mask. He was bare before you, exposing the thing he hated the most about himself to you. His hear raced as he pressed his lips together, wishing he had kept the mask on.</p>
<p>	“Thomas?” You asked softly.</p>
<p>	He nodded to indicate he had heard you. He looked down your body, at the curves of it. A body that was made to create, to give life. His eyes trailed over your stomach, where a baby might have grown one day. At your breasts, which he knew was supposed to feed a baby you would never live to have. </p>
<p>	It was so different from his down body, that had been so hell-bent on decimation that it had even destroyed itself. </p>
<p>	He felt evil looking down at your body, which had been designed to nurture, while he was death incarnate - a murderer who didn’t deserve anything.</p>
<p>	“Are you nervous?” You whispered, snapping Thomas out of his spiral. </p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slightly, looking back at your face. You smiled a bit as you took his wrist.</p>
<p>	“That’s okay. I’m scared too.” You comforted him, leaning up and kissing his forearm. “Do you want me to start?”</p>
<p>	He swallowed, the small action bringing him fully back into the present. Whatever he had done, whatever would happen to you, this was happening now. </p>
<p>	You slowly pulled on his wrist, moving his hand down until it was touching your breast.</p>
<p>	His breath hitched slightly as he moved his hand so it was cupping your breast. You were so warm. He gently pinched your nipple between his finger, jumping a bit as you gasped. He scanned your face for discomfort, but there was none. You gave him an encouraging smile and nod.</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded back, looking down at your body once again. He was embarrassed to admit - even to himself - that he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Sure, he had seen the dirty magazines that Hoyt and Monty had barely attempted to hide, but those were just pictures of scantily clad women in degrading poses. </p>
<p>	Thomas never had the luxury of the awkward fumblings in secret places in his teen years, where everyone was testing each other’s bodies to see what felt good. He had nothing to lean on, no experiences to recall helping him know what to do. But he waned this. God, he wanted it. But he didn’t want it to just be good for him.</p>
<p>	He was too much in his own head, he shouldn’t have started this. God, he should have let you get dressed and go to sleep, he knew you probably found him as disgusting as everyone else did, you probably hated him more than anyone else in the world, why did he-.</p>
<p>	“Tommy.” You sat up.</p>
<p>	His head snapped up at the nickname. He didn’t realize his eyes were wet until he looked at you head-on. He blinked, looking away, letting the frustrated tears dry. He felt like a child.</p>
<p>	“Is it okay if I call you Tommy?” You asked, politely ignoring how wet his eyes had gotten. While he was looking at your body, his breathing had gotten hard, and you had noticed the tears forming in his eyes. He had stayed over you for what might have been a solid minute before you finally decided to distract him.</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slightly, looking back at you.</p>
<p>	You took his hands, setting them in your lap. “Can I kiss you, Tommy?”</p>
<p>	He blinked, sitting up. Kissing. Kissing was a thing people did, how could he have forgotten that.</p>
<p>	You smiled, seeing him retreat into his own head again, squeezing his hands to get his attention once again. “And, I was thinking, I probably need a real shower. Would you like to shower with me?”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded slowly, his heart racing once again. </p>
<p>	“That makes me happy.” You said, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on his mouth.</p>
<p>	He froze as he felt the warmth and softness of your lips. Your eyes were closed as you kissed him. He carefully put his hands on your shoulders, following your example and closing his eyes as he finally kissed you back. </p>
<p>	You deepened the kiss, slowly bringing your hands up and cupping his face as you did so.</p>
<p>	Thomas kept his eyes closed, feeling as if he was going to cry again. You were touching him, and it was your idea. You were kissing the thing he hated the most about himself and he was kissing you back.</p>
<p>	He pulled back, his breath shuddering, but you captured his lips once again, moving your arms down to his hands, moving his hands around your waist. He opened his eyes, looking at your face as he squeezed your hips. You seemed content.</p>
<p>	He didn’t dare break the kiss again. He waited until you pulled back, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked up at him.</p>
<p>	“Ready to shower, Tommy?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Shower</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stepped into the shower first, letting the water wash over you as Thomas undressed behind you. You didn’t look behind you as he undressed, you focused on washing yourself. You heard him step in behind you. His stomach brushed up against your back, highlighting how small the shower was. The two of you could barely fit.</p>
<p>	Turning, you gave him a small smile. “Your turn, Tommy.”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded, taking your shoulders and carefully maneuvering around you to step into the water. He was so huge, and had good muscle definition in his arms and chest. His stomach had a bit of fat on it, and you thought it was cute. He had a good amount of body hair, but you supposed that a man with the amount of testosterone Thomas seemed to have would be at least a little hairy. </p>
<p>	As he turned into the water, running his hands over his face and hair, you looked his back up and down, noticing all of the scars that he had on his skin. While Thomas washed himself, you observed his old wounds closely, feeling a strange mixture of emotions as you looked them over.</p>
<p>	A part of you almost felt a rush of victory for the people who Thomas had murdered. They had left a mark, proving that they at lived, and they had wanted to live so badly that they had fought tooth and nail to do so. Even if they had lost the fight. You could have been nothing more than a scar on Thomas’ back, if not for the fact you had become his personal little hostage. </p>
<p>	On the other hand, your heart hurt, looking at his scars. Thomas must have been in so much pain, and you could tell by the way they had healed that they hadn’t been taken care of by a medical professional. He had scared you at first, and you knew what he was capable of, but he was your one lifeline here. And, in a sick and twisted way, you cared about him. </p>
<p>	“This must be a hard life, huh?” You murmured, reaching out and touching a particularly nasty looking scar. </p>
<p>	Thomas stiffened, glancing back at you and nodding slightly.</p>
<p>	“I’m sorry everything ended up like this.” You reached out, pressing yourself against his back, gently hugging him. You rested your hands on his chest, slowly running your fingers over his chest, feeling the curve of his chest and his body hair. </p>
<p>	Thomas breathed out through his nose, bringing one of his hands up and squeezing both of yours gently. He nodded again.</p>
<p>	A tired smile found its way to your face as you rested your head on his shoulder, the water falling over the both of you. You were sorry. You were sorry for whatever had made his family like this. Sorry you had ever come here. Sorry for whatever had happened to Thomas’ face. Sorry for a lot of things.</p>
<p>	You moved your hands to his arms, slowly moving them up and down his triceps. </p>
<p>	“Tommy?” You mumbled.</p>
<p>	He turned his head to look at you, enjoying the feeling of your hands on his skin. He nodded for you to continue.</p>
<p>	You smiled up at him, reaching up and pushing his hair back. “Do you want me to pleasure you first, or do you want to pleasure me?”</p>
<p>	Thomas jerked back in surprise, almost slipping, if there was any room for him to slip. You giggled, steadying him, taking this opportunity to press yourself against his chest.</p>
<p>	“Sorry! Sorry.” You giggled, resting your head on his broad chest. “It’s just, I want to feel good. And I think you do too.” You reached past him turning off the water before looking up at him. “I can show you how.”</p>
<p>	Thomas’ heart started to race, and you could feel it against your own chest. He glanced away before looking back at you, nodding slightly.</p>
<p>	Smiling, you reached up, pulling him into a soft kiss. He kissed you back, and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. You had guessed he was a virgin based on his reaction to your naked body. He seemed completely overwhelmed.</p>
<p>	You took his hand, slowly moving it between your legs, looking at his face for any sign of discomfort. Thomas did seem uncomfortable, so you let go of his hand, but he finished the motion, gently pressing his fingers against your heat. </p>
<p>	You tensed slightly at the feeling, realizing how long it had been since you had even touched yourself there. He was frowning slightly, looking down at you.</p>
<p>	“You don’t have to, Thomas…” You whispered.</p>
<p>	Thomas looked in you up and down, feeling how you twitched against his fingers. You wanted this, you really did. Tentatively, he started moving his fingers in circular motions, watching your reaction.</p>
<p>	Gasping, you curled up against his chest. Thomas smirked slightly, already feeling a bit of pride from such a little reaction. He moved his fingers harder, figuring out what you liked based on the breathy sounds you made.</p>
<p>	His fingers circled your clit agonizingly, earning another breathy moan from you. You felt Thomas grow hard against your thigh, and you brushed your fingers against his length. </p>
<p>	Thomas shuddered, tilting his head back. You slowly pumped him, lightly nipping on his neck.</p>
<p>	A low moan escaped Thomas’ lips, spurring you on. You squeezed his cock harder as you pumped him, adoring how this large man was becoming putty beneath you. </p>
<p>	“Tommy, finger me, put your fingers in me.” You whimpered, teasing the head of his cock with your thumb.</p>
<p>	He gasped, slowly moving his fingers inside you. His eyes widened when he realized how tight you were just around three of his fingers. He moved them slowly, his breathing speeding up as your moans and gasps filled the small space around him.</p>
<p>	He could feel it, he was close. The sound of your moans, your hand stroking him, the feeling of your chest against his was quickly becoming too much. But he didn’t want to cum alone. Gritting his teeth, he continued pumping his fingers into you, noting how you drug your free hand between your legs, rubbing your clit while he fingered you.</p>
<p>	Thomas gasped at the effort not to cum, curling his fingers inside you, feeling how you tightened up against his fingers. His breath came out in pants, and without thinking he grabbed the back of your head, ramming his lips against yours as he finally came, bucking his hips against you wildly as he came, groaning against your lips. </p>
<p>	You gasped at his sudden roughness, rolling your clit as his fingers dove into you wildly. You whined as you came, Thomas snaking his tongue in your mouth as your walls clamped down around his fingers. </p>
<p>	Thomas pulled away from the kiss, seeming to come back to his senses. He held you up as you pulled yourself together, the both of you finding your breath. His cum was all over your fingers and his stomach. You giggled, turning on the water and rinsing off your hand before stepping out.</p>
<p>	Thomas stayed in the shower, his back against the wall, looking amazed. </p>
<p>	Smiling, you held out your hand. “Do you want to do more, Tommy?”</p>
<p>	Thomas nodded, taking your hand and stepping out with you. You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas watched you as you walked to the bed. You sat down on the edge, smiling softly at him. Your skin was still wet from the shower, your hair dripping onto the covers. You held out your hand to him.</p>
<p>	“Aren’t you coming?” You asked softly.</p>
<p>	I’m just remembering this. Thomas thought, taking your hand. He stood over you, squeezing your hand. His hair dripped down onto your face, making you giggle and break away from him.</p>
<p>	You crawled farther up the bed, wiping your face and laughing softly. You sat against the headboard, giving him another smile. </p>
<p>	He felt his heart break at the sight. Could life have always been like this? He wondered, sitting on the edge of the bed. In all of his fantasies of having a wife, he never thought to picture having fun with her. He playfully grabbed your foot, pulling you closer to him.</p>
<p>	“Hey!” You laughed as Thomas crawled over you. He grinned, shaking out his hair, making more water land on your face. “No! I was trying to get away from that!” You laughed, trying to twist out from under him. To no avail, as Thomas pinned you down with his torso, forcing you to endure this torrent of hair water. </p>
<p>	Thomas felt himself laughing, watching you squirm beneath him. The laughter sounded scratchy and odd, but he didn’t feel self-conscious about it, because you were laughing too. You turned your head back and forth, laughing, attempting to dodge the water falling from the tips of Thomas’ hair and failing. </p>
<p>	“Thomas!” You squeaked, before your mouth spread into a mischievous grin. Inhaling loudly, you blew air out into Thomas’ face, making him jerk back in surprise. You squirmed out of his grip as he did, sitting back up against the headboard and curling up in a ball so he couldn’t grab your limbs again, giggling to yourself.</p>
<p>	Shaking his head, Thomas tried to stop smiling only to find that he couldn’t. He crawled onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard with you, pulling you into his lap. </p>
<p>	“Do you want to keep going?” You giggled softly. “Or is the mood too non-sexy now?”</p>
<p>	Hoyt had claimed that Thomas had fallen in love with you. Thomas didn’t even know what love was. But, he was having fun with you. And that was something he hadn’t felt since he was a small child. Too small to know how different he was from everyone else. </p>
<p>	He knew he was getting too attached to you. You’d be gone in a week. He ran his hand down your arm, squeezing your hand. Thomas never knew you could have fun during sex. </p>
<p>	You looked up at him, your cheeks red from laughing. Thomas leaned down, kissing you. You pressed your lips against his, and he could feel the curve of your smile against him. He slowly moved down, pressing you against the bed as he kissed you. </p>
<p>	Pulling back, he took in the sight of you. Alive, happy. Perfect. Maybe he had fallen for you. Or maybe he just liked that you weren’t repulsed by him. Thomas could think of all this later. What was it, only two days ago he wanted to kill you? That he saw you as a hinderance? </p>
<p>	Thomas ran his hands up and down your arms slowly. Just being able to see you as a human being had changed so much. </p>
<p>	“Do you want to have sex, or try more other things?” You asked, wrapping your legs around his hips. </p>
<p>	Thomas ground on you, feeling the wetness between your legs that had nothing to do with the shower water. He had done that to you. He breathed out slowly, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing the tip against your entrance, gasping quietly when he felt how wet you were. </p>
<p>	You arched your back and moaned, and that took away the last bit of anxiety that Thomas had about taking you. He needed you more than he had ever needed anything else in his life.</p>
<p>	He pushed into you, gasping and tensing up at the feeling of your pussy around his dick. His breathing sped up, and he grasped at the bedsheets beneath you. You felt too good. He already wanted to cum. </p>
<p>	His chest tightened when he thought of finishing inside you. You full of him. His mind drifted to the sight of you pregnant, but Thomas quickly shook that thought from his mind, focusing on just having sex for the first time. </p>
<p>	Thomas looked at you, you were smiling at him, patiently waiting for him to get ahold of himself. You reached up, running your fingers through his damp hair. </p>
<p>	“You’re big.” You whispered, leaning up and kissing his cheek. “You’re really big, Tommy.”</p>
<p>	He blew air out of his nose, trying his best not to feel giddy at the complement. He tentatively moved his hips, gasping at how tight you were around him. He had never felt anything like this. </p>
<p>	Using all of his self-control, he started thrusting into you slowly, biting his cheek to muffle his moans. You ran your nails down his back, only making it that much harder for him not to cum on the spot.</p>
<p>	“Thomas.” You moaned softly, moving your hips with him. </p>
<p>	His eyes widened at the feeling, the muscles in his arms tensing as he continued thrusting into you, grasping at the bedsheets to keep control of himself. He could barely look at your face, it was too much.</p>
<p>	You arched your back, gasping softly as his speed became more erratic. He was so thick that he stretched you, and that alone almost made up for his complete lack of experience. You figured he would finish fast, but you didn’t mind. You’d already finished once. You leaned up, kissing his neck.</p>
<p>	“Suck my nipples.” You gasped against his skin before letting your head fall back onto the bed.</p>
<p>	Thomas looked down at your breasts, leaning down and licking one of your nipples. You moaned softly, arching into his touch. He sucked your nipple into his mouth, gently running his tongue along it as he moved into you. </p>
<p>	You shivered at the feeling, moving harder against him, earning a low groan from Thomas. Wrapping your arms around his head, you kissed his forehead as he sucked on your breast.</p>
<p>	You kissed his forehead a few times, bucking your hips into his. “Thomas…my guardian Thomas.”</p>
<p>	Thomas stilled at your words, pulling back and looking at your face. </p>
<p>	You offered him a small smile, melancholy at your imminent death creeping up on you now that you had a moment to think.</p>
<p>	He opened his mouth, as if he could speak, as if he would even have words to make things better, nut he didn’t. So instead he leaned up, giving you a kiss on your forehead as well. He squeezed his eyes shut as he kissed your forehead, cupping your face in his hands. You ran your nails lightly down his back, sighing softly.</p>
<p>	When he pulled back, he looked into your eyes for a moment before tentatively moving his hips again.</p>
<p>	You closed your eyes, tiling your head back. You smiled a bit, squeezing your inner muscles around his cock.</p>
<p>	Thomas gasped, clenching his hands at the sudden feeling.</p>
<p>	You laughed, opening one of your eyes and smirking mischievously. “Feel good?”</p>
<p>	Thomas tried his best not to smile, growling playfully before beginning his thrusting again, harder and deeper than before.</p>
<p>	“Hey!” You gasped in surprise as Thomas straightened, grabbing your hips and moving you roughly into him. He smirked at you as you moaned, and his smirk only grew when he reached down, rubbing your clit like he had seen you do in the shower.</p>
<p>	Your eyes widened, crying out in surprise and pleasure as Thomas thrust into you while playing with your clit. You bucked your hips wildly, amazed at how fast he learned.</p>
<p>	He wanted you to cum again. He wanted it so bad. He wanted to make you cum, and he wanted to finish inside you. He wanted it so badly, he was going to make it happen, </p>
<p>	Pressure was building up in your abdomen. You put your fingers over Thomas’, making him grind them down on your clit harder as your breathing became more ragged.</p>
<p>	“Tommy, Tommy, oh my god-!” You screamed as you came, your body shaking as you did. </p>
<p>	Thomas came as you did, the feeling of your muscles spasming around his dick stripping away his last bit of control.</p>
<p>	You gasped, looking at him with wide eyes as you watched him finish, feeling his cum filling you. Your face instantly heated up in shock and embarrassment, a small gasp leaving you as Thomas pulled out.</p>
<p>	Thomas looked at your pussy, and at the sight of his cum dripping out of you. Pride surged through him at the sight. He glanced up at you, blinking in surprise at your expression.</p>
<p>	He leaned down, turning your face towards him, resting his forehead on yours.</p>
<p>	“You came inside me.” Was all you could say.</p>
<p>	His eyes widened as he realized that you might not have wanted him to. He sat up, looking you up and down, wanting to fix it but being unable to.</p>
<p>	You sat up, still blushing. “No, I guess it’s okay…it doesn’t matter now.”</p>
<p>	Thomas looked at you, looking apologetic. </p>
<p>	You chuckled, resting your head on his chest. “It’s okay. That was really good, Thomas.” You said. “I should have tried to start a dialogue about all this before we got started. You couldn’t have known.”</p>
<p>	Thomas kissed your forehead, lying down with you. He supposed you were right. The repercussions of that wouldn’t matter soon enough.</p>
<p>	You pulled the blanket over the two of you, snuggling against his chest, halfway asleep already. Thomas wrapped his arms around you fatigue spreading through him. </p>
<p>	Sleep had almost come to him when he remembered something important.</p>
<p>	Thomas sat up, stirring you awake. He grabbed the handcuffs, putting one on your wrist.</p>
<p>	“Oh.” You sighed, snuggling back into the pillow. You’d all but forgotten about the handcuffs. If he had forgotten too, you could have escaped. You were so caught up in the euphoria of sex you had almost missed your one chance at escaping.</p>
<p>	Thomas wrapped the other cuff on his wrist, lying back down with you. </p>
<p>	You smiled slightly, looking at the cuff that now linked you two together. “That’s new.” You teased.</p>
<p>	He breathed air out his nose, closing his eyes, slowly falling asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Mask</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were awoken by the sound of something banging. It was rhythmic, and as you sat up groggily, you heard the sound of someone shouting.</p><p>	Thomas stirred beside you as the sounds woke him as well. You sat up, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. Thomas sat up slowly as well.</p><p>	His eyes sharpened as he realized what the sound was. Thomas jerked out of bed, nearly ripping your arm off as he did.</p><p>	“Ow!” You yelped as he nearly dragged you completely out of bed. </p><p>	Thomas glared at the cuffs, puling out his key and undoing the cuff around his wrist, pulling up none-too gently up to the headboard and locking the cuff on the bedframe.</p><p>	“Ow, Thomas, what’s-?” You asked, but he glared at you. You went silent as he brought a finger to his lips, grabbing something out of his bedside drawer and rushing out of the bedroom.</p><p>	You curled up in a ball, your hand stuck awkwardly at eye level. Thomas hadn’t been too careful in where he had locked the cuff, leaving you stuck at a bad angle. All of your clothes were on the floor, out of reach. </p><p>	Sighing, a feeling of uneasiness spreading through you as the shouting continued. Pulling a blanket around yourself, you closed your eyes, trying in vain to go back to sleep.</p><p>	Thomas rushed out of the bedroom, pulling on the random face he had gotten from his drawer. He hadn’t even had time to see which face it was, but it didn’t matter. Monty was signaling for him.</p><p>	He grabbed his chainsaw, running to the wall with the peepholes, looking through one of the holes to see Monty hitting his cane on the ground and shouting at a couple of strangers.</p><p>	Snapping into work mode, Thomas opened up the wall and revved the chainsaw.</p><p>	You started crying when the screaming started. Out of fear or pity, you weren’t sure which. The thumping of heavy footsteps and the screaming moving throughout the house grated on your frazzled nerves. You sat up, covering your ears, the sounds of your sobbing drowning out the noise.</p><p>	The screaming didn’t stop, no matter how much you hoped that it would. Hours went by, the light slowly dimming outside. The screaming changed from shrieks of fear to howls of pain, the sounds of the chainsaw as consistent as their cried. No matter how you wished it, the screaming didn’t stop, and Thomas didn’t come back.</p><p>	Only after the room was pitch black, the sun long gone past the horizon, that the sounds of pain stopped, the chainsaw stopping soon after. </p><p>	You sat up against the headboard, your eyes dry from crying too much. Your hand was numb, but you didn’t have the capacity to care about it. You had been sitting in darkness for hours, and now the only sounds were of shuffling throughout the house. </p><p>	Curling closer to the headboard, you rested your head on your knees.</p><p>	Thomas slammed his cleaver on his cutting board, finishing his carving up of the last body. It had been three strangers this time, and one of them had been a runner. But they had wanted to save their friends, and now they were dead too. </p><p>	Thomas wiped off his forehead, sighing heavily. What a long day, and now he was sweaty and bloody too. None of the strangers had faces he wanted, either. It felt like a waste. He could have spent the day in bed with you if it weren’t for these people.</p><p>	He took some meat upstairs, putting it in the fridge for his mama to cook when she had time. Luda Mae gave him a tired smile and a kiss on the cheek.</p><p>	“Thank you, Tommy.” She said. “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt this time.”</p><p>	Thomas smiled, heading back to his room. Luda Mae watched him go, a feeling of melancholy settling in her chest. Her poor Tommy deserved so much better than all of this. She hoped you would still be good to him after hearing all that.</p><p>	He walked to his room, stepping inside and turning on the light.</p><p>	You glanced up at him, at his clothes that were now dripping with blood and a stranger’s face on top of his own, almost looking like a rubber mask, but somehow you knew it wasn’t.</p><p>	“Please, no. No!” You sobs came back with full vigor, and you buried your face in your knees. “I don’t want to see this!”</p><p>	Thomas blinked, frowning at your reaction. He looked down at himself before looking at you, taking a step toward you.</p><p>	“No!” You held out your free hand as if you were trying to block him. “I don’t want to see this, please go away!”</p><p>	He shook his head in confusion, not understanding what was causing such a reaction from you. </p><p>	You glanced up at him, seeing him hovering near the door. You couldn’t read his expression due to this grotesque mask.</p><p>	“Take that fucking thing off!” You screamed, curling up tighter. “Don’t come near me…”</p><p>	His hand flew to his face, feeling the leathery skin he was wearing. Thomas took off the mask, frowning at this sudden change. All day all he had wanted was to come back to you.</p><p>	You didn’t look up from your hiding place behind your knees. You sniffed, tears springing back to your eyes. It had been one thing to know what Thomas did, it was another thing all together to hear it. </p><p>	Thomas stood in the doorway, holding his mask in his hand, watching you quietly. When he realized you weren’t going to be the first one to give, he turned, leaving his bedroom, suddenly feeling very tired.</p><p>	Hoyt stood near the doorway; his arms crossed. Thomas could smell the liquor on his breath from where he was standing. Just like Hoyt to get fucked up the moment the coast was clear.</p><p>	Hoyt looked up at Thomas, surprise on his features from seeing Thomas mask less. Thomas quickly put the face back on, not wanting to have to deal with Hoyt right now, and especially not with a naked face.</p><p>	“She was always going to break your heart, boy.” Hoyt mumbled. “Either she’d accept ya as you are and die in a week, or she’d reject you just like this.”</p><p>	Thomas frowned, trying to brush past Hoyt, but Hoyt grabbed his arm, stopping him.</p><p>	“I heard her yellin’.” Hoyt said. </p><p>	Thomas shook his arm free, glaring at his uncle. </p><p>	Hoyt held up his hand. “I didn’t mean to start all this boy, I really didn’t. But what’s done is done. Now, there ain’t nothing left but what you want.”</p><p>	Hoyt drew his gun from its holster. “I can go in there and kill her right now, while she still hates ya. So it won’t hurt as bad for you later.”</p><p>	Thomas’ eyes widened, shaking his head slightly.</p><p>	“I’m just trying to make it easier on ya, Tommy.” Hoyt persisted. “Think on it.”</p><p>	Thomas shook his head, walking past Hoyt and to the kitchen. He was hungry. And maybe you’d calm down after a little more time alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Make Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Thomas re-entered his room, his stomach ached with nervousness. He opened the door just enough to poke his head inside, to see what you were doing. </p><p>	The light was still on, since he had left in on when he left. You were curled up in a ball where he had cuffed you, your arm up at an awkward angle, and your head in your knees. Your eyes were closed, and you hadn’t reacted to the sound of the door opening. </p><p>	Thomas stepped inside, a strange cocktail of emotions welling up in his stomach. He was angry. Angry that you couldn’t accept every part of him, the part of him that he had to nurture in order to survive, the violent and ugly side of him. You knew what he was, you wouldn’t have been chained up in his room otherwise.</p><p>	On the other hand, you accepted the part of him that had been the biggest handicap to him his whole life. His face. You’d been a comfort, because you had showed him that, in some way that even he didn’t understand, he was lovable. </p><p>	If only he could go back to before that morning, to when you two were making love and having fun together.</p><p>	He walked into the bathroom, taking off his bloody clothes and stepping into the shower. Thomas couldn’t remember the last time he had showered so much. He smiled at the thought. He was already changing to make you like him more. Thomas hadn’t tried something like that since he was a child.</p><p>	He walked out of the bathroom naked, heading over to the bed. You were naked under that sheet you had covered yourself with.</p><p>	Pulling out the key to the cuffs, Thomas unlocked your hand, gently taking your hand and setting it down next to you. He then carefully wrapped his hands around your body, slowly trying to lay you out without waking you.</p><p>	You stirred as he moved you, your eyes fluttering open.</p><p>	Thomas stiffened as your eyes fell on him, half expecting you to scream at the sight of him. </p><p>	You just sighed and turned away, allowing him to lay you out. He put the cuff back on you, putting the other on his wrist so you could sleep without your arms getting hurt. </p><p>	He laid down next to you, staring at the ceiling. Sighing heavily, he ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes. </p><p>	“Tommy?” You mumbled.</p><p>	His eyes snapped open, turning towards you to see you facing him, your eyes tired and watery. Before he could stop himself, he brought his hand to your face, brushing some hair off your cheek. </p><p>	You sighed softly, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.</p><p>	Scooting closer, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling to you his chest, your cuffed hands shoved awkwardly between your bodies. </p><p>	“Tommy.” You repeated, looking up at him.</p><p>	He nodded, resting his forehead against yours. He ran his free hand up and down your body, feeling your warmth. </p><p>	Thomas didn’t consider himself a particularly proud man, but he didn’t want to forgive you so easily. But he needed your touch, and you weren’t pushing him away, and he was going to take every chance he had to touch you.</p><p>	You wiped your eyes on your wrist, sniffing. “Thomas, I don’t want to die.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Keys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hoyt sat at the kitchen table, twirling his gun down on the cheap linoleum countertop. The gun made a unique sound on the table, and his eyes lazily followed it as it stopped, pointing out the back door. Since he had nothing else planned for the day, he grabbed it, following where it was pointing, heading to the back door. </p><p>	His hand was on the door, only one step away from stepping out into the rising morning light, when something caught his eye. </p><p>	The Hewitt family had a key ring holder, covered in hooks, covered in keys that had been stolen off of the bodies of their victims. It had become so overwhelmed with keys over the years, that sometimes Luda Mae or Thomas would make art from them. The holder had fallen off the wall a few times from the weight.</p><p>	Every keyring came with hints as to who the person was, how many keys they had, what keychains they had for decoration, if they had keys with designs on them, and of course what kind of car they had. </p><p>	What bothered Hoyt was the fact that he didn’t notice anything new on any of the hooks. </p><p>	Squinting, he observed them harder. You had been kidnapped, what, four or five days earlier? But there weren’t any new keys on the hook, and he knew no one had made any key art in the last few days.</p><p>	His eyes widened as he started to connect the dots. Your key was gone. Thomas had a soft spot for you.</p><p>	“Motherfucker!” Hoyt pulled out his gun, racing to Thomas’ room. </p><p>	Hoyt kicked down the door, making Thomas jump, waking him from dead sleep.</p><p>	Thomas sat up, frowning, the blanket falling off his bare chest.</p><p>	“Where the fuck is she?” Hoyt shouted.</p><p>	Thomas shook his head in confusion, glaring his uncle down as you tentatively sat up, holding the blanket high to cover your chest. You shied behind Thomas, using him to cover as much of you as he could.</p><p>	Hoyt paused at the sight of you. His panicked expression quickly turned to confusion. </p><p>	You blinked slowly, obviously just waking up. Thomas jerked out his hand and grunted angerly, anger evident in his expression and jerky movements. He ran his hand through his hair, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He kept his other behind his back, hiding the cuff that connected the two of you.</p><p>	Hoyt lowered his gun, frowning in confusion. “Where are her car keys?”</p><p>	Thomas jerked out his hand again. <br/>	“They aren’t on a fuckin’ hook, where are they, boy?” Hoyt growled, not putting his gun back in the holster just yet.</p><p>	Peeking out from behind Thomas, not wanting Hoyt to see you in a place so vulnerable as naked in a bed, you tried to remember where you last saw your keys. </p><p>	“I dropped my keys when you grabbed me that day.” You said in a small voice, wanting to get him out of the bedroom as fast as possible. </p><p>	“Did I ask you, you fuckin’ red meat?” Hoyt snapped.</p><p>	Thomas glowered at him, moving more in front of you.</p><p>	Hoyt paused, frowning. The two of you seemed genuinely confused, and Thomas couldn’t lie to his family to save his life. He walked in closer, looking around Thomas to you.</p><p>	You pulled the blanket higher, squirming under his gaze. </p><p>	“Where did you drop ‘em?” Hoyt asked you gruffly. </p><p>	Frowning, you curled up in a protective ball. How did he expect you to remember that? After the sheer amount of trauma his godforsaken family had dished out over the last few days, you were amazed your brain was functioning as well as it was.</p><p>	You wracked your brain, trying to remember what had happened that day. You had been driving, and there must have been nails on the road or something, because your tire had gotten a flat. You driven off the road near the house, and you had slammed your hand on the wheel in frustration. </p><p>	The honk had brought a sheriff out of the house, and you had stopped your car and gotten out to greet him. He had grinned, looking you up and down, and that was about the point where you were starting to feel scared. You’d moved to get back in your car, and that was when Hoyt had grabbed you from behind. </p><p>	But what had happened to your keys? You couldn’t remember if you were holding them or not. You couldn’t even remember if you had carried them out of the car with you.</p><p>	“They, well, they might be near my car?” You said lamely. “It’s the last place I had them.”</p><p>	Hoyt stormed out of the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him.</p><p>	Thomas grunted angerly, pulling the cuff key out of the bedside drawer and uncuffing himself from you, clomping over to the door and slamming it shut before falling back into bed with you.</p><p>	“What was that about?” You whispered, your one safe haven in the home now as unsafe as anywhere else.</p><p>	Thomas shook his head, re-cuffing himself to you and lying back down, pulling you close.</p><p>	Hoyt walked out into the field, heading to the car. He poked his head into the driver’s side, scanning the car’s contents. He didn’t see any keys in there. He stuck his hand out, feeling for them in the ignition, feeling nothing there. He cursed, pulling himself out of the car. </p><p>	Turning back to the house, he started to storm back, ready to interrogate the two of you again, when his boot hit something. Raising his foot, he looked down to see he had stepped on a keyring. </p><p>	Hoyt knelt down, picking them up. The car key matched your car. Thomas wasn’t trying to save you after all. </p><p>	He almost felt bad for accusing him, but he pushed that emotion out of the way quickly. Pocketing the keys, the walked back to the house to start his day with some nice morning whisky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Tired Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas rose, running his hand through his hair. There would be no getting back to sleep, not after Hoyt kicked in his door. He glanced over at your sleeping form, watching the subtle rise and fall of your chest. Evidently, you were able to get back to sleep easily enough.</p>
<p>	He undid the cuff on his wrist, and then on yours. He placed the cuff on the table by his bed before kneeling down next to you, observing your face. At your pores, your eyelashes, even at how you breathed. </p>
<p>	He didn’t want you to die. </p>
<p>	Standing, he gently nudged your shoulder so that you rolled over onto your back. You stirred slightly at the action, your eyes fluttering open as he crawled over you. A sleepy smile spread across your face while you were still too tired to recall the events from the day before. </p>
<p>	“Morning, Tommy.” You murmured, lazily reaching up one hand just high enough to brush the tips of his hair.</p>
<p>	Thomas leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. Your breath hitched before you melted into the feeling of his lips on yours. He pressed his hand against the headboard, making you feel cornered, but in a pleasant way. It felt safe, like he was sheltering you from the world. </p>
<p>	He pulled back, moving kisses to your jaw, and down your neck. </p>
<p>	You squirmed, resting your hands on his chest as he kissed down to your collar bone. You breathed out slowly, feeling more awake now.</p>
<p>	Kicking the blanket off, you moaned softly as Thomas positioned himself between your legs, his dick growing hard as he started kissing his way back up your neck. You lifted up your hips to meet his, his cock grinding against your thigh as you did so. </p>
<p>	Thomas kissed your lips again, harder this time as he slowly moved his hips into yours, feeling your skin against his. It felt different when the both of you were dry, but he loved the feeling. Your skin felt so soft against him. </p>
<p>	Letting your hips drop back against the bed, you lifted your legs, locking them together behind Thomas’ back, using them to pull him to you. </p>
<p>	He looked you up and down, his eyes twinkling mischievously before he leaned down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking on it gently. </p>
<p>	You arched your back, a low moan escaping your lips. Thomas began grinding on you again, earning more breathy sounds from you as his length ground against your heat. </p>
<p>	He pulled away from your nipple, looking over your body. To him, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. </p>
<p>	Gently, he pushed into you, groaning softly at the feeling of you around him. You moaned below him, spurring him to thrust slowly into you. </p>
<p>	You breathed out slowly, enjoying the feeling of him inside of you while you were still groggy. Your legs around him stopped him from moving too much, so you got to keep the pleasantly hazy pleasure going.</p>
<p>	Thomas put his hands on either side of your head, watching you as he moved into you. You were smiling a little, and blinking slowly. Your smile would grow a little wider when your eyes fell on him. That felt better than being inside of you did, and being inside you was the best thing he had ever felt. He leaned down, kissing you again as he moved. </p>
<p>	You started moving your hips to meet his, gasping a bit each time he thrust into you. He stretched you, but it didn’t hurt. Your whole body shivered as you unwrapped your legs from around him, letting him move at whatever pace he wanted. </p>
<p>	He slipped his tongue in your mouth as his thrusts became harder, more aggressive, deeper than before. You tried to gasp but his tongue muffled your sounds, exploring your mouth, memorizing your taste as he fucked you.</p>
<p>	Your nails dug into the sheets as he moved, pressure building quickly. Pleasure washed over you with every movement, every muffled sound from your mouths, the sounds of skin on skin that filled the room around you. </p>
<p>	Thomas finally pulled away from your mouth, licking his lips slowly, wishing he could drink you. The sight of it made you even more needy than you already were, spurring you to move your hips harder into him, needing as much of him as he did of you.</p>
<p>	He grit his teeth, the need to cum building quickly.</p>
<p>	Your hand flew to your clit, rubbing it roughly as he thrust, your need to finish as strong as his. You expertly worked yourself, making yourself wetter, your inner walls tighten around Thomas.</p>
<p>	Thomas gasped, cumming before he could stop it, his entire body stiffening as he came inside you.</p>
<p>	Whining at the feeling of him filling you, you desperately ground your fingers on your clit, your hips bucking without your permission as you found your end as Thomas was finishing his. </p>
<p>	“T-Tommy-!” You whined through clenched teeth, your body shaking as Thomas panted over your orgasming form.</p>
<p>	His breathing stilled as he watched you squirm beneath him, riding out your climax. He leaned down, kissing your temple as your body finally stilled.</p>
<p>	Your mind was a pleasant haze of sleepiness and pleasure, curling back up into your side, ready to go back to sleep. </p>
<p>	Chuckling, Thomas got off the bed, pulling the blankets over you and cuffing your hand to the headboard again. He’d let you sleep for now. He had morning chores to do, and you looked so cute when you were sleeping.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Godly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You woke slowly, the blankets pulled snugly over your shoulders. Tiredness tried to pull you back into sleep, and you felt no need to fight it, seeing as it wasn’t as if you had any plans for the day. </p>
<p>	Feeling around the bed, you realized Thomas must have left already. Must have gone to get breakfast, you figured.</p>
<p>	Turning, you rolled over onto your side to curl up into a comfier position when something caught your eye. You blinked your eyes a couple of times to get them to adjust, squinting your tired eyes to focus on the metallic thing on the side table.</p>
<p>	When you recognized it, your head snapped up, and you quickly got yourself into sitting position, not trusting what you were seeing. You leaned in closer, afraid to even touch it. As if it would disappear if you acknowledged its existence. </p>
<p>	The key to the handcuffs glinted in the light filtering through the window, making it look almost godly. And it was. How else could the key to your freedom be described but just that? </p>
<p>	You looked around the room, frowning deeply. Maybe Thomas had just gone to the bathroom and would be back in a moment? No, the door to the bathroom was open. Well, maybe he was just getting breakfast and would be back any moment? He probably wouldn’t be too happy if he caught you out of the cuffs when he got back, so it would probably be smart not to uncuff yourself.</p>
<p>	On the other hand, maybe he had left it there for you. Maybe he wanted you to escape. But that couldn’t be right. Obviously you would call the police the moment you found good society, and Thomas loved his family too much to do that for you.</p>
<p>	Your palms began to sweat as you turned back to the key. Even if you unlocked the cuffs, how would you get out? Even if you knew where your keys were, your car had a flat. That was what had stranded you there in the first place. And you were willing to bet you wouldn’t be able to outrun Thomas or outsmart him in the place he had lived for so long, especially with his experience in chasing people. </p>
<p>	Stomach churning from the memory of the screaming of Thomas’ victims from the day before, your fingers hovered just above the cuff key, still not daring to touch it. </p>
<p>	Either you die in less than a week – god, how many days did you have left? You weren’t even sure anymore – and have that death be hopefully painless, or try to escape and brave whatever the punishment would be for fighting to live. </p>
<p>	Your hands were shaking. Goosebumps rose on your arms. You liked Thomas, for what he was. But you liked your life before better, and you wanted to keep living it. </p>
<p>	Finally, your fingertips brushed against the key, and by some miracle, it was real. You had half expected it to disappear. The metal was cold, and it made a faint scratching noise on the table as you slowly picked it up. It weighed hardly anything, but at the same time, it weighed everything. It weighed your life. </p>
<p>	Turning the key in your fingers, you turned back to the door, ears straining for any sound of someone waiting just behind that door, just waiting for you to do the wrong thing and be caught. But there were no sounds. </p>
<p>	You shoved the key into the cuff around your wrist, your entire body shivering with fear and adrenaline as you turned it, the cuff clicking open, and suddenly you were free. The cuff fell against your pillow, your wrist instantly lighter. </p>
<p>	You looked down at your hands in wonder, freedom already unfamiliar and strange. Letting out a shaky breath, you crept to the edge of the bed, trying to make a little noise as possible as you crawled off of the edge of it and onto the ground in front of your suitcase. </p>
<p>	Before anything, you had to get dressed. Opening up the suitcase, your grandfather’s yellow shirt you loved so much was the first thing to greet you. You picked it up, hugging it to your chest.</p>
<p>	“Please watch over me, grandpa.” You prayed to it, burying your face in the fabric, inhaling the familiar smell. “I want to see everyone again.”</p>
<p>	The shirt was precious to you, but the yellow would be too easy to spot as you tried to sneak around. You gave it one last hug, another inhale as you set it off to the side, pulling out a black shirt and dark green pair of pants and putting them on instead. You couldn’t afford to try and salvage any other of your possessions during this escape attempt. Everything would have to be left behind.</p>
<p>	You pulled on an old pair of sneakers, the ones with the soft, worn out soles in the hope that they would make the least sound as you snuck around.</p>
<p>	But what was your plan exactly? You had already ruled out trying to escape on foot, but what else could you do? Try to steal one of the many cars on their land? You’d have to find the keys first. And off of those cars seemed worse off than yours. If you knew where your keys were, you could try to drive your car out of there, even with a flat, it would be better than trying to just walk. </p>
<p>	The plan was coming down to either find your keys and drive out, or run until you found a road and wave down someone and pray they weren’t another serial killer. </p>
<p>	Letting out a shuddering breath, you stood at the door to the bedroom, your entire body now just a vessel for adrenaline. Already your breath was growing faster and harder.</p>
<p>	“I love you, grandpa.” You squeaked, putting your hand on the doorknob and turning it. </p>
<p>	You had no exact plan when you crept out of the bedroom, eyes feverishly scanning the surrounding area for any sign that this was a trap. You stayed close to the wall, creeping down the hallway, continuing to strain your ears for sounds that weren’t there.</p>
<p>	The only things you could hear were a tv going, and someone walking around, you weren’t sure where, but they didn’t seem to be in any hurry, which meant that you were for the most part, safe. </p>
<p>	Getting down on your hands and knees, you began to crawl, staying low and simultaneously spreading out your weight in an attempt to make as little noise as possible. You crawled and listened, your heart racing so intensely you could barely hear anything else. Every time you heard something you froze in place, waiting to either be found or the sound to pass. </p>
<p>	Progress was slow, but after crawling and stopping and panicking and the subtle sounds of the house’s occupants existing all around you, you came to a hallway. At the end of the hallway was the front door. The door was open, with nothing stopping you from freedom but the screen.</p>
<p>	Sunlight filtered through the screen, illuminating the hall in early morning light, turning the wretched house gold. Sunlight had never looked so glorious, so heavenly, freedom so close.</p>
<p>	You stayed where you were, trying not to let your eagerness to escape cloud your judgment. You listened, hearing the sounds of someone in a room nearby. It sounded like clinking. Like someone stirring something in a pan. Someone was in the kitchen. </p>
<p>	The other sound was of the television, but no other stirring of people. </p>
<p>	So you only knew where one person was. The other three, that was anyone’s guess. </p>
<p>	Crawling forward towards freedom, you peeked in each room, making sure that no one would see you. </p>
<p>	You saw the mother, her back to you in the kitchen. You crawled past the door as fast as you could without making noise, your heart in your throat. Only the sounds of cooking came form the kitchen as you passed. She didn’t spot you. </p>
<p>	You continued crawling toward the front door, peeking into the last two rooms that branched off on either side. </p>
<p>	One was empty.</p>
<p>	The other room – what you assumed as the living room – held the other two men. Monty and Hoyt. </p>
<p>	Monty was asleep in his wheelchair, and Hoyt seemed to be passed out on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. Joy and fear coursed through you as you realized how easy this escape was going to be, if you could just get to the front door without either of them waking up and looking into the hall.</p>
<p>	You crawled forward, lifting up your hand to push it open, when something stopped you. You noticed that in Hoyt’s other hand, were your car keys. </p>
<p>	You paused, looking from the keys to the door. The longer you were in the house, the more chance that you would get caught. But you were also likely to get to safety if you had a set of wheels. </p>
<p>	Letting out a silent sigh of fear and resolution, you slowly crawled over to where Hoyt was sleeping.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Keys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silence was never as loud in the house. Every swish of your clothes, the sound of your knees brushing against the ground, even your breathing seemed to resonate. Though Monty and Hoyt were both breathing and snoring and being as loud as two old men sleeping possibly can be, it seemed as though your sounds were louder, more grating, foreign to the house. </p><p>	You crept on all four towards Hoyt like an animal on high alert, scared, jerky. Even from where you were you could smell the cheap alcohol wafting off of him. You watched his snoring face for any sign that he might be coming out of sleep. He seemed to be deep in it, considering how loud his snoring was.</p><p>	The keys were held loosely in his hand, the metal that glinted with freedom between his boney fingers. In his drunken sleep his grip had loosened, the keys seductively lying in his palm his fingers just barely curled around them. They looked so easy to grab, so close.</p><p>	Crawling closer until your knees were almost touching his feet, you lifted up your hand, the pad of your fingertip just barely grazing the key ring when you heard shuffling behind you. </p><p>	Your hand hovered on the keys, your body freezing as your fright or flight kicked in and your body decided on freeze. You turned your head slowly to see what the sound was, praying that it was either nothing or Thomas who was feeling merciful. </p><p>	Monty yawned, stretching out his arms, waking up from his nap. He wasn’t facing you yet. But that could change. </p><p>	You snatched the keys, flinching at the jingling sound they made. </p><p>	You turned back, making eye contact with Monty.</p><p>	His eyes were wide in surprise, his mouth open as he took in the sight of you crouched down in front of Hoyt’s sleeping form. For a moment, there was silence. </p><p>	Then you bolted out of the room, subtly out the window, flinging open the front door as Monty started screaming bloody murder behind you. </p><p>***</p><p>	Thomas was in the basement, working on one of his masks. The leather of the skin was beginning to crack; he had been neglecting it for too long. It was the face of some man who had come by on his own once, no passengers. </p><p>	His car had been full of alcohol and what looked like amateur porn. The man had several weapons and rope as well in his trunk. Thomas had a feeling that no one would ever look for this particular face again. As a matter of fact, people were probably glad the man had never come around again. </p><p>	Truly, he didn’t care if this face went bad or not when he thought about the man himself. But, it wasn’t the man’s face anymore. It was Thomas’, so he was supposed to take care of it. His mama had always told him to take care of the things that were his, because they never knew when they would be able to replace something.</p><p>	Thomas was so focused on his task at hand, it took him a moment to register the sounds that were coming from upstairs. It was yelling, but in a house full of hotheads, it wasn’t uncommon to hear yelling. That, and Monty wasn’t slamming his cane down on the floor as was the usual way to signal for Thomas.</p><p>	He tensed up, hand hovering over the chainsaw as he struggled to hear what was being said. Finally he just grabbed it, running upstairs. If it was a family fight, then whatever. If it was intruders, then it was good that he went up.</p><p>	Thomas ran up to the fake door, sliding it open and revving up the chainsaw. </p><p>	“Thomas! Thomas!” Monty was shouting, rolling towards the front door. </p><p>	Thomas ran up to meet him.</p><p>	“That girl, that damn girl of yours! She’s out!” Monty shouted. </p><p>	Thomas burst through the front door instinctively, not quite absorbing Monty’s words until he saw you and Hoyt at the edge of the property.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Rust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You didn’t make it far before Monty started screaming. Monty woke up Hoyt, who woke up confused. But Hoyt was only confused for a moment. He lived for the moment he got to chase people down, and he had a personal vendetta against you. </p><p>	You burst out the front door, running, eyes feverishly scanning the area around you for any sign of your car. There were cars everywhere, many of them old and rusted and falling apart. Where was yours? Did they just leave it where it stopped?</p><p>	All you knew for sure was that the car wasn’t in the backyard, thanks to the one outing Thomas had taken you on before his family had stepped in. You should have been looking for your car then, instead of admiring the scenery. </p><p>	The front door burst open, Hot’s voice ringing out across the front lawn. His heavy footsteps on the porch thundered behind you, reminding you that you didn’t have time to think. </p><p>	Without looking behind you, you ran towards the end of the property, every footstep behind you a death sentence as you desperately searched for your car. </p><p>	Your limbs were stiff, unused to movement after only a few days of being handcuffed to a bed. There was pain as your body fought against the wind, the wounds on your wrists from the cuffs stinging. But none of that mattered. You had to focus on your feet. Focus on running. Focus on searching. </p><p>	A flash of color out of the corner of your eye alerted you to it. A bit of comforting electric blue in this brown and grey world. Your car, your way out.</p><p>	Hoyt screamed behind you. Calling you disgusting names that you would never dare repeat. You knew he was probably faster than he looked, he chased people down to stay alive. </p><p>	But you tried not to think about it. Fear would weigh down your feet. You forced yourself to not think of the fear. It was freedom. Freedom, life, so close that you just had to reach out and grab it. Focusing on the idea of freedom would spur you on faster.</p><p>	You wanted to live. You wanted to live!</p><p>	Behind you, you heard the sound of a chainsaw from inside the house. The sound gave you pause, just a moment of unsureness, but that moment was long enough for Hoyt to tackle you to the ground next to a disintegrating car.</p><p>	His elbow came down on your stomach, knocking the wind out of you as the older man fell on you. You would have puked from the force, but there was nothing in your stomach to throw up.</p><p>	Hoyt climbed on top of you, grinning wickedly as his hands wrapped around your neck. His fingers were cold and fumbling, his breath reeking of booze as he grinned down at you. </p><p>	“You little bitch.” He hissed, spit dripping off his lips. His fingers tightened around your neck. “You thought the boy would choose you over his family?”</p><p>	You clutched at his fingers, gasping in a useless attempt to get air. His grip only grew tighter the more you struggled, his perverted glee growing at the sight of your pathetic attempt to live. </p><p>	He leaned down, lowering his voice as the sound of the front door flying open alerted the both of you that Thomas was finally outside. “You were destined to die, dumb fuck.” Hoyt giggled childishly. “I’m gonna make him cut you up while you’re alive. So that he knows, he will only ever have us.”</p><p>	Your arms fell to your sides, your strength leaving you as spots of white and black bloomed behind your eyes. Your body was beginning to feel tingly, cold. Vaguely, you felt your fingers brush against something. An old car part?</p><p>	Using the last of your strength, your numb fingers wrapped around the object, and rammed it into Hoyt’s arm.</p><p>	“Fuck!” He shouted, falling off of you, his hands flying to the object, blood pooling between his fingers.</p><p>	You scrambled away, gasping for air, your vision still not completely back yet. Something long and metal was sticking out of Hoyt’s arm, and it was rusty. </p><p>	Good, you thought. You hoped he would get lock jaw and die as horribly as his victims had died. </p><p>	Behind him, a large figure was growing closer. </p><p>	Thomas.</p><p>	He would never forgive you for hurting Hoyt. </p><p>	You shot back to your feet, finding your footing as fast as you could, running to the car. Your throat burned, your neck muscles sore and straining from Hoyt’s death grip. </p><p>	The sound of the chainsaw grew closer as you pulled out your keys, rolling over the hood of your car and opening up the driver’s side door. </p><p>	The black spots still played on the edges of your vision as you looked through your keys, finding the one of your car and shoving it in the ignition, turning it. The car didn’t start.</p><p>	“Please please please!” You begged while trying it over and over again, praying. You were unsure to what you were praying. The car, to god, maybe to Thomas, a preemptive plea for him to be merciful when he caught you. </p><p>	Thomas was almost to your car when it finally started. </p><p>	A cry of victory escaped you as your foot came down on the gas, the tires rolling a couple times before finally gaining traction, the car jolting forward. Thomas swung the saw at the car, the metal causing sparks to fly as he broke the passenger side window, causing a rain of glass and sparks to fly down into the car.</p><p>	You screamed, clutching the wheel as tightly as you could, the one flat tire making it harder to steer.</p><p>	Thomas ran after the car, ignoring the stinging of rocks and debris that flew up from under the tires as you finally got onto the road. </p><p>	The sight of him in your rearview mirror was the most terrifying thing you had ever seen. He was wearing a face on his face, his apron covered in bloodstains, and betrayal in his eyes. You had betrayed him, run away from him, and hurt his family. There would be no mercy for you if he managed to get you.</p><p>	You pressed down harder on the gas, until the pedal was on the floor. Sparks began to fly behind the car as the flat tire scraped on the road, flying towards Thomas. </p><p>	He shouted, holding up his arms to cover his eyes as he ran. No matter how much adrenaline was pumping through him, no matter how hurt he was, he couldn’t outrun a car.</p><p>	The space between the two of you grew larger and larger, until there was no sign of you but a cloud of dust. And still Thomas ran to you, unrelenting. </p><p>	It was only after the chainsaw began to grow heavy in his arms and his lungs began to burn that he finally stopped. Not even the cloud of dust existed now. He failed.</p><p>	Thomas looked down the road, at the waves of heat that obscured it and made the road look like liquid. </p><p>	You were gone. He had failed. Now you were out there, calling the police, telling them about him and his family and what it was that they did to people. It was over, it was all over because of him.</p><p>	His mama, his family, what would they do now? Within a few hours, police would probably be flooding their home, stopping them forever. His arms fell to his sides, his strength leaving him as all of these thoughts and realizations flooded him at once.</p><p>	He had loved you. Thomas loved you, and he had felt you, made love to you, protected you, and that was why everything was wrong now.</p><p>	Thomas lifted his head, his mouth opening as an animalistic scream escaped him. And then another. And another. He ripped his mask from his face, throwing it to the ground. His entire body was shaking. </p><p>	How had you gotten out? He had the handcuff key.</p><p>	Turning off the chainsaw, he let it fall to the ground. No need for it anymore. He slipped his hand into his pocket, his eyes widening. The key wasn’t there.</p><p>	He screamed again, sinking to his knees. Screaming until his voice was hoarse. Screaming until all of the sounds he had left in him were gone. </p><p>	Finally, he stood up. He turned away from the road that you had escaped on. And he started walking home.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. An Ending That Isn't The End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he had finally slumped his way home, Luda Mae was fussing over Hoyt. Hoyt was cussing a blue streak, blood covering most of his shirt. Monty was watching from his chair, trying to calm down Luda Mae.</p><p>	“He hasn’t had a shot in years!” She was saying as Thomas walked in the door. “That metal was covered in rust!”</p><p>	“Thomas!” Hoyt spat when he noticed Thomas darkening the doorway. “Did you get ‘er?”</p><p>	Thomas couldn’t even move to confirm yes or no. He just stood in the doorway, his shoulders and back slumped. He was tired. He was so, so tired. He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a million years. </p><p>	Everyone could guess what his stillness meant.</p><p>	“Well.” Hoyt sighed, standing. “You take your mama and go somewhere far away.”</p><p>	Thomas frowned in confusion, looking at Hoyt.</p><p>	“She’s gonna get the police, and when she tells them what we’ve been doing here, they’ll send the cavalry.” Hoyt said. For once, his harsh voice was soft. He was tired too. They were all tired in one way or another. And now they had no choice but to stop, and give into their exhaustion. “If I’m gonna die anywhere, it’s going to be here. But you’re still young enough to get away. You should get the chance to leave this damn town.”</p><p>	Thomas frowned and shook his head, but Monty piped up.</p><p>	“I’m gonna defend this home too.” He said. “I ain’t got legs, but I got two arms to hold a gun with.”</p><p>	Thomas shook his head more. If anyone was going to fight – if anyone was in shape enough to fight – it was him. </p><p>	Luda Mae walked over to her son, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I always took you in hoping I’d give you a good life, but, I didn’t really achieve that, did I?”</p><p>	She smiled when Thomas shook his head. “Don’t try to deny it, son. I couldn’t protect ya from other kids, I couldn’t protect ya from getting all those scars on your back from intruders, and I couldn’t protect ya from this.”</p><p>	“You two should get going.” Hoyt said, pulling out his gun with his good arm. “Won’t be long, now.”</p><p>	Luda Mae shook her head, looking up at Thomas. “Tommy, I’m going to stay here too. I want you to go out into the world on your own.”</p><p>	His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly in response. One thing he had never even thought about living without was his mama. He wouldn’t leave his family, but leave of all her.</p><p>	“Please, baby boy.” She cooed, bringing her hand to his cheek, looking on his bare face for the first time in a long time. “I know there’s somewhere out there in the world you can build a good life. Please.”</p><p>	Monty rolled over to Thomas, giving his arm an awkward pat. “You’ve done enough here.”</p><p>	Thomas kept shaking his head.</p><p>	“Listen up, boy.” Hoyt snapped, grabbing his attention. “You’ve done enough. Go on, get.”</p><p>	No. Was all Thomas could think. </p><p>	Luda Mae squeezed his shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “We ain’t askin’. We’re tellin’.”</p><p>	“We’re old, boy.” Hoyt said, grabbing a shotgun and walking over, handing it to Monty. “We knew we couldn’t do this forever. One day, no matter what, you’d end up alone.”</p><p>*<br/>*<br/>*</p><p>	It was all over the news for the longest time. It was such a grotesque and horrifying story that people couldn’t stay away from it. The story sold many newspapers, and kept the ratings for news channels up. Anyone who had ever known you were getting requests for interviews, to know more about you, the one survivor.</p><p>	Even the ending was fantastic. The cannibal family in one last shootout with the police, dying where they had killed so many others.</p><p>	Hoyt had been the first to die. He straight out charged the police, the moment they began to lose, instantly mowed down in a rain of bullets. Monty was the second, who had shot at the police when they had come into the house. Luda Mae had been last. The papers never quite said how she died, so many were willing to bet she was unarmed and killed anyway. </p><p>	Thomas was the big draw of the story. Man with scarred face and the body of a bear, the butcher, the man with the chainsaw, leatherface. So many names for him had been thrown around. The Hewitt who had never been found.</p><p>	You weren’t safe from the tabloids either. Everything you had ever done in your life had come to light as the reporters nosed through everything you had ever done. But none of that was the worst thing that had happened to you.</p><p>	It was what they said about your baby that ripped your heart into shreds.</p><p>*<br/>*<br/>*</p><p>	“If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times, I was pregnant before I was taken hostage.” You said, folding the clean laundry. Lies seemed to fall out of your mouth easily these last few years. To police, family members, press, anyone who would listen; if they asked, you would lie to them. Not about everything, in fact for the most part you had been entirely honest about what had taken place inside the Hewitt home. </p><p>	Your hair had grown out nicely. There were only the slightest traces of scars on your wrists now. It was almost like nothing had happened. And in many ways, there were other, larger signs that something had happened. Like the stretch marks on your stomach. Or your daughter, who was playing in the next room over.</p><p>	“You’ve been saying that for years, but the one thing that you’ve never given me is the name of the father.” Your mother chided. “I know you, you wouldn’t get pregnant by some stranger. There’s no need to feel ashamed-.”</p><p>	“Mom.” You said in a warning tone. It wasn’t that you felt shame exactly. You just never could figure out how to tell people that you had consensual, almost loving sex with one of your captors. People would either not believe you, or tell you that it was non-consensual because you didn’t have the option to leave. And you didn’t want people calling Thomas a rapist. Or to put that kind of label on your daughter.</p><p>	The reporters had a lot of things to say about your daughter once news of your pregnancy had gotten out. All you could think to do was lie and say that you had gotten pregnant before the road trip. That it had been some guy you had met at a bar. You didn’t want the labels and headlines they had made up to follow her all her life.</p><p>	Your mother held up her hand in surrender. “Fine, putting that aside, I don’t want you galivanting off with just you and Millie. How are you not scared to go on a road trip on your own after last time?”</p><p>	“That was years ago.” You put certain articles of laundry into your suitcase. “We’re just going to drive down to the Gulf of Mexico, and I’m going to get the vacation I never got to have.” </p><p>	“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Your mom pressed. </p><p>	“They’re all dead and gone now.” You zipped up the suitcase, giving her a smile. “Something like that wouldn’t happen twice.”</p><p>	“Not all of them.” She said in a warning tone. “The monstrous one is still out there.”</p><p>	Thomas.</p><p>	“I won’t be going that way anyway.” You said. “We’re already late.”</p><p>	“I just can’t let you go!” Your mom snapped. </p><p>	You stood, picking up the suitcases. “We’re already late. Be sure to to take Bucky out for at least one walk a day, two if you can manage it.” You walked to the living room, your dog Bucky protectively standing guard over Millie. You’d gotten him right after you had gotten home. He was fiercely loyal, and he made you feel safe. </p><p>	The poor dog couldn’t protect you from the nightmares, though. Of course the poor dog tried. Now he had a habit of barking you awake if you so much as shifted wrong in your sleep. He reminded you of Thomas in a lot of ways. Big and strong and scary to outsiders. </p><p>	Leaning down, you pat Bucky on the head, giving him a little kiss on the snout. “Be good for grandma, okay?”</p><p>	Bucky tried to lick your face, making you laugh and pull away. You picked up Millie, you waved at Bucky.</p><p>	“Bye-bye!” She called to the dog. “Bye-bye gammy!” She called to your mom.</p><p>	You waved with her. “Bye. We’ll be back in two weeks.”</p><p>	And you walked out before your mother could get another word in. You went down to your car, strapped Millie to her car seat, and started on your journey.</p><p>	Millie could say a good amount of words, and you heard all of them about fifty times as you drove. She giggled to herself and played with her toys, she fussed and kicked and cried out of boredom as the hours droned on, and eventually, all that was left was her breathing as she fell asleep in her seat.</p><p>	The sun rose higher, and the air grew hot the more south you went. Slowly, the scenery around you turned into something a little more familiar. Places you had dreamed about a thousand times over.</p><p>	When you came to the Hewitt house, the sun was close to setting, the sky a brilliant gold. Millie was just waking up, beginning to fuss again as you stopped the car. </p><p>	You got out, putting the key in your pocket, before opening up the back door and unhooking Millie from her car seat. </p><p>	“Morning, sleepy.” You smiled, pulling her up and onto your hip. Millie rubbed her eyes adorably and curled up into your side. “Do you want to learn about your daddy?”</p><p>	Millie looked up at you, smiling. “Daddy?”</p><p>	You kissed her forehead, walking up to the house. It was mostly in shambles now, old police tape hanging from where it had been tied, the scene of the crime no longer protected. There was some devilish graffiti on the walls, obviously people who had heard of what happened here had come and written on the walls.</p><p>	Millie frowned at your silent nostalgia, tugging at your shirt. “Daddy?” She pressed.</p><p>	Smiling, you kissed her forehead. You had told her about her father in a very specific way; trying to tell her just the good. You could save the bad for when she was older. You had told her he looked scary, but he had good eyes. You tried so hard to not exaggerate his good points, and to let just enough bad seep in so that she wouldn’t grow up idolizing him.</p><p>	“This is where I met your daddy.” You smiled, looking at the house that held so many bad memories for you. Millie looked at it as well, instantly wrinkling her nose at it.</p><p>	“Scary.” She said, looking at what remained of the home.</p><p>	“It was.” You replied honestly, walking around it. “It was scary, but your daddy made it less scary.”</p><p>	“Why?” Millie asked, clinging closer to you as the sound of creaking wood spooked her. She almost looked as if she was going to cry.</p><p>	You couldn’t blame her. It was a scary place. Pulling her closer, you walked back in the direction of the car. You weren’t sure what exactly made you feel the need to come back here in the first place, but something felt unresolved.</p><p>	“Because he protected me. If your dad was anything, he was loyal. He loved who he loved with his entire heart.” You explained, walking towards your car. You’d hoped seeing this place again would bring you closure, but it didn’t. Maybe you’d just never get closure. </p><p>	Millie looked over your shoulder, her eyes going wide as she screamed. “Mommy!”</p><p>	You whipped around to see a large man barreling towards you, holding a cleaver. You screamed, turning to run to the car, when you realized the man looked familiar. He had a scarred face, no nose, that large form, all of that could only belong to one man.</p><p>	“Thomas!” You shouted.</p><p>	The man slowed, his arm lowering slowly when he saw you were holding a small child. His eyes widened in recognition as the two of you made eye contact. </p><p>	Thomas felt his stomach drop at the sight of you. What should he do? Kill you? What good would that do at this point? Everything was already ruined, had been for years. His eyes slowly traveled over to the child you were holding. She was crying silently, clutching to your shirt.</p><p>	He had lived here for only the last three months. Before that he had just lived wherever was remote. The woods, an abandoned town, places like that. He had gotten better at hunting small game to live off of. No more killing people, no more attention drawn to him. But seeing his house like this, seeing yet another stranger come to deface his home, and he felt all the dormant anger rise up.</p><p>	But it wasn’t a stranger. It was you. The only person outside of the family he had ever loved.</p><p>	You have him a thin smile, turning and running your hand through the child’s hair, shushing her quietly. Thomas was amazed you weren’t running to your car. It would probably be the smart thing to do. </p><p>	“Thomas.” You said softly, looking back at him. “This is Millie. Your daughter.”</p><p>	He dropped the cleaver. </p><p>	He fell to his knees, looking at the child with wide eyes. Millie. Millie, was that a nickname, or her full name? She had his hair, he could see it now. She was beautiful, so beautiful, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.</p><p>	You wiped her eyes, smiling at her. “He didn’t mean to scare you, baby girl. He was just excited.”</p><p>	“Scary!” Millie whimpered, curling into your shoulder.</p><p>	“He just looks scary.” You pet her hair. “I told you, your daddy looks kind of scary at first.”</p><p>	Thomas could just watch the two of you with wide eyes. A family. He still had family left. He wanted to kill you, he hated you so much, but he loved you too, and now he knew you were the mother of his child. </p><p>	He watched silently as you calmed her down, Millie’s crying slowing into a sniffle. Millie glanced at him before hiding back in your shoulder. He wanted to hold her.</p><p>	You smiled at Millie. “Are you okay to get closer?”</p><p>	“No!” She hiccupped, wiping her nose on your shirt.</p><p>	You glanced at Thomas apologetically. “I didn’t think you’d be here.” You were surprisingly calm at the sight of him, at having him in touching distance. A part of you knew, he would never hurt his daughter, and at the end of the day, she was the only thing that mattered. Maybe this was the resolution you had been craving for years.</p><p>	Thomas didn’t think he’d be here either. He didn’t have much of a plan anymore, he just lived day to day. </p><p>	His heart ached. He wanted to hold is daughter, and she was terrified of him, just like he always feared his kids would, if he was ever lucky enough to have them.</p><p>	You gestured for him to stand, and he slowly did, making Millie flinch. Thomas heart twisted in an ugly way at her reaction.</p><p>	“I’m going to kiss your daddy, okay Millie?” You said soothingly.</p><p>	Millie peeked at you, her eyes dry.</p><p>	Thomas raised his eyebrows as you leaned over, keeping Millie as far away from him as you could while holding her. You pressed your lips against his, hoping this would prove to her that he was safe.</p><p>	He tensed at the feeling of you on his lips. You smelled the same. As your lips lingered on his, he finally kissed you back, earning a surprised breath from you. Neither of you had been kissed life since you escaped. Neither of you were prepared for it.</p><p>	When you pulled back, Millie looked between the two of you. You could see the gears in her little brain turning as he looked at Thomas. It probably went something along the lines of: Scary looking, but not bad. A stranger, but also daddy. Mommy trusts him, and mommy knows everything.</p><p>	Slowly, she reached out one of her little arms towards Thomas.</p><p>	His breath hitched as she silently gave Thomas permission to hold her. He reached out his hand, settling two of his fingers in her tiny palm. Millie’s fingers wrapped his, holding on tight as she tested him out.</p><p>	His eyes welled with tears as Millie’s face contorted into a concentrated scowl, her other hand reaching out to him as well. He watched in disbelief as you shifted, holding Millie out to him.</p><p>	He hooked his hands under her armpits, pulling her to his chest. He knew he probably smelled bad, and was dirty, but Millie didn’t seem to care, she continued frowning, looking up at his face. Her hand reached up, touching where his nose was supposed to be. He broke out in a grin at the feeling of her warm little palm on his face.</p><p>	“Don’t hurt him, honey.” You said softly, feeling your own eyes grow wet. Everything was so complicated, but god, you had this one moment, this one moment where the three of you were a family together, and that in itself was perfect. “Don’t poke his eyes.”</p><p>	Millie continued feeling around his face for a while. Finally, she looked in his eyes. “Daddy?”</p><p>	Thomas nodded, unable to hold back his tears now. Daddy, he was daddy.</p><p>	“Daddy!” She curled up in his huge arms. He hugged her tight, his shoulder shaking with tears.</p><p>	You wiped your eyes, walking over and gently rubbing her back. “I always wished you could meet your daddy.”</p><p>	Thomas looked over her at you. He felt just about every emotion possible when he looked at you. He wanted to kill you, make love to you, kiss you, make you pay, live with you forever, make you laugh, make you cry and beg forgiveness. But one thing he could never do, was make his daughter upset. If that meant not hurting you, then so be it.</p><p>	He reached out with his arm, pulling you into his chest will Millie. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching Millie squirm happily in his other hand.</p><p>	“We’ll have to go soon.” You said softly, not wanting this moment to end. “My mom is expecting a call when we get to our hotel.”</p><p>	Thomas looked down at you, shaking his head. </p><p>	You smiled sadly, lifting up a hand to his face. “We can come back tomorrow.”</p><p>	He shook his head again.</p><p>	“We can’t stay.” You said sternly, using your mother voice. “I promise, we’ll come back tomorrow.”</p><p>	“We’re going to the ocean!” Millie clapped happily, smiling at Thomas.</p><p>	His shoulders slumped. He couldn’t scare Millie, no matter how much he wanted to force you to stay. This was all too much.</p><p>	You took Millie back from him, and his heart broke all over again when he was no longer in his arms. You reached up, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. He watched silently as you put Millie in her car seat, and you got in the car.</p><p>	His heart lurched when he heard the car starting up. When Millie waved goodbye to him. When the car started driving away. He had the most awful urge to chase you down, but this time, catch you and force you back home. But things were different now. He had no one to kill for anymore. Instead, he had someone to not kill for now. </p><p>	All he could do was pray that you were being honest when you said you would come back to him. He had to believe you would. You were family now, no matter what had happened in the past. You couldn’t keep him from his daughter now that he knew about her.</p><p>	No matter all the death that had transpired, the loss, the heartbreak, you two had created a life together, and by god that had to mean something.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Epilogue</h2></a>
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    <p>Millie was a teenager now, and old enough to understand the situation her parents were in. Old enough to have heard all the insults and rumors that had circulated around her family since she was a baby. Sometimes it angered her. Sometimes she hated her parents. And sometimes it didn’t matter at all. She was more than her parents, and more than the circumstances had made her.</p><p>	She sat in the kitchen, making coffee for you once you woke up. The most recent rumors circling the family was that not only was Thomas Hewitt alive, but that he was going to go on a revenge rampage against her mom and herself. Well, the first part of the rumor was true. Thomas Hewitt was alive, and she saw him at least twice a year. Now it was getting closer to once a month, now that Millie had her very own drivers license. </p><p>	A shuffling from further inside the house alerted Millie that you were waking up. She poured the coffee into a mug, making it how she knew you liked it. Millie wasn’t always the most thoughtful kid, but you’d been taking the brunt of the Thomas Hewitt gossip. She’d heard you talking to grandma on the phone that people at work were getting a little too comfortable asking you questions about what had happened at the Hewitt home. So, she wanted to help you start off your morning right, at least.</p><p>	“Morning, sweetie.” You yawned as you shuffled in the kitchen, obviously still out of it. “Why are you up so early?”</p><p>	“I’m visiting dad today.” Millie replied, handing you your coffee cup. “So I wanted to wake up early.”</p><p>	You nodded absentmindedly, sitting at the kitchen table. “Oh yeah?” You sipped your drink, already a little more focused. “You don’t have school today?”</p><p>	“Mom, it’s Saturday.” Millie started making toast for herself. “School doesn’t happen on Saturdays.”</p><p>	You chuckled, resting your cheek on your palm. “When you’re a teenager, weekends still mean something to you, I guess. When you have a job you lose track of the days.”</p><p>	“Sounds horrible.” Millie joked, sitting across from you. “If you’re not working you could come with.”</p><p>	“Mmm.” You hummed in response, a smile making its way to your face. Your eyes were every bit as bright as they were when you were young, but the stress of being a single parent with your life on display for nosy true crime lovers had aged your skin. You’d done your best with Millie, and even with Thomas. “Where has your dad been living lately?”</p><p>	“He’s been moving closer to here.” Millie stood when her toast popped out, eating it plain without butter. “To save me the drive. Soon he might even be in town.”</p><p>	“That would be nice, then you could see him whenever you want.” You sipped your drink. That would explain why ‘Thomas Hewitt Sightings’ had been all over the magazines at the grocery store lately. People were probably actually spotting him moving your way. That would explain the rumors that he was trying to ‘finish what he started’ all those years ago. “I hope he’s being careful.”</p><p>	“So do you want to come?” Millie said through her toast.</p><p>	“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” You poked her nose, laughing when she scrunched it up in response. “I don’t know sweetie, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. He probably doesn’t want to see me.”</p><p>	Millie paused. Her dad always asked about you, every time she saw him. And you hadn’t really dated anyone that Millie knew of. Millie had the suspicion that neither of her parents were over the other, but something was stopping them from ever trying to be together. Maybe it had to do with how things ended. Or maybe how things started. </p><p>	She knew that the family dynamic wasn’t healthy. But in a way she couldn’t quite explain, she knew her parents loved each other in a romantically tragic way. </p><p>	“It’s only an hour drive now.” Millie explained. “Please?”</p><p>	You finished your coffee, concerned by Millie’s persistence. It was unlike her. She wanted you to go for some reason, and she wasn’t telling you why. </p><p>	“Okay.” You rose. “I’ll get dressed.”</p><p>	*<br/>	*</p><p>	Thomas waited in the abandoned insane asylum that Millie had picked out last time they’d seen each other. It was covered in spray paint and it was obviously a place that teens came to to scare each other and have sex in. But, Millie said this was probably one of the few places that would be empty this close to town. So Thomas waited. </p><p>	He heard the car pull up, and he stood, stretching out. He was getting stiff in his old age. He heard the music in the car stop and smiled to himself, already feeling lighter now that his daughter was here. He always missed her so much when she wasn’t around.</p><p>	What stopped him, was that he heard two voices. Thomas froze, realizing that it might not be Millie. Judging from the music that had been playing it wasn’t police, it was probably some other teenagers. Today of all days?</p><p>	He turned to find a new hiding spot, when the voices got closer and he could actually make them out.</p><p>	“I hate this damn cowlick in my hair.”</p><p>	“Mom, I promise you it looks fine.”</p><p>	Thomas froze. That was Millie’s voice. And yours.</p><p>	He sank to the ground, his heart beginning to race in his chest. He’d barely seen you in years. Only when Millie came to visit, and you usually stayed in the car.</p><p>	The anger and hatred he’d felt for you all those years ago was gone now. He’d accepted that his family knew what they were doing, that it wasn’t your fault they were dead now. That was the life they had chosen. But he’d never told you that he forgave you. And you never told him that you forgave him.</p><p>	“Dad?” Millie called, snapping Thomas out of it. He rose, hurrying towards the two of you before he could stop himself. He kept his eyes on Millie as he walked up to the car, scooping her up in his arms and giving her a big bear hug.</p><p>	“Dad!” She laughed, hugging him back. “Stop, you’re so old!”</p><p>	Thomas kept her up in the air longer spitefully, to show that he might be old, but he can still pick up his baby like she weighed nothing. Millie laughed more, tapping out on his shoulder. Only then did he set her down. </p><p>	“Dad, I brought mom this time.” Millie said, even though she knew he’d seen you.</p><p>	Thomas nodded, looking over at you. You looked older, but he knew he did too. He still thought you were beautiful. He awkwardly held out his hand, and you smiled and took it, giving it a shake.</p><p>	“Hi, Tommy.” You said softly. You held up a paper bag in your other hand. “I thought we’d stop by a fast food place before we came, in case you were hungry.”</p><p>	He smiled, signing a thank you. </p><p>	Millie watched as the two of you just stood there, just kind of looking at each other. She raised an eyebrow, slapping her dad on the back. “Well, let’s find a place to sit down and eat.” She pulled a blanket out of the back seat, looking between her parents. “Picnic style.”</p><p>	She hurried off before the two of you, setting the blanket down on the grass below some trees while you two were still standing by the car.</p><p>	You looked over at Thomas, giving him another smile and messing your hair again. “It’s good to see you again.”</p><p>	Thomas nodded. It really was.</p>
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